The study of religion as a legitimate academic pursuit is a perennial subject of discussion within and without academe. Interestingly, the challenge to its academic legitimacy and appropriateness brings together strange bedfellows--the anti-religious on the one hand and the primordially religious on the other hand. [1]

The anti-religious not only challenge its inclusion in the academic curriculum, but when there , its location and the methods employed in studying it. These challengers, as Martin Marty observes: "oppose religion and think it is not a fit subject for study. The human race is said to have moved beyond it and the only proper location for the study of religion is in the disciplines of history, archaeology, and paleontology . . . . Having to their own satisfaction dismissed the claims of religion from their own lives, they see its survival to be trivial, unworthy of the university." [2]

Elements of the religious community, while sharing this common conviction about the inappropriateness of religion in the academic curriculum, provide different predications for their conclusion. They believe that religious faith is the provenance of the Holy Spirit and that the critical methods of academia are not appropriate to matters of faith. Religion is a matter of the heart, not a matter of reason. The academic study of religion is seen as a threat to the very foundations of certainty and hope so desperately sought and treasured in religious faith. Turning to subjectivism, separatism, legalism, anti-intellectualism, and even sometimes to mystical flight from the world, no place is found for the academic pursuit of the Bible.[3]

Such an attitude is unfortunate for it is, whether advertently or inadvertently, a denial that faith and knowledge are intrinsically related and ultimately a denial of the wholeness of the person and the cohesiveness of truth.

As Gillespie observes, "Even, when, under the influence of medieval Scholasticism, the redemptive knowledge of God was attributed to divine revelation and the natural knowledge of God and the world was assigned to human reason, it was still assumed that the realm of Grace and the realm of Nature were complementary. The fullness of truth required both the knowledge of faith and the knowledge of reason. Because theology at this point in history claimed its ground in both realms, it provided the bridge between them and was recognized as the Queen of the Sciences and the core of the curriculum."[4]

After all, it was the church that gave birth to the university in Europe. (Parenthetically, higher education in the United States can also be characterized as a child of the church.) The establishment in the 12th century of the now historic universities of Europe allowed biblical studies to leave the cloister and move to the university. The study of scripture joined the ranks of the trivium (grammar, logic, and rhetoric) and the quadrivium (arithmetic, geometry, astronomy, and music). I believe that such a move had reciprocal benefits for the Bible and the university.

Without the scripture, the academic curriculum would have been impoverished and without the honest intensive study of the university, the Bible would have remained hidden under the ecclesiastical rubble of centuries. Thus the move was beneficial to both the church and the university.

The shift of the study of the Bible to the university freed the study of scripture from the incrusted traditions which had been dictating its meaning. The medieval church believed that it should uphold and transmit the traditions and dogmas of the early church fathers. Thus, in general, medieval biblical scholars were content to collect and synthesize the traditional explanations of the fathers.[5] The form in which this material was cast was called the catena, a chain of interpretations pieced together from the writings of the fathers. All too often these textual glosses, sometimes marginal, sometimes interlinear, were considered more important than the text itself (in short, a kind of Ryrie or Scofield Bible).

Medieval scholars produced massive volumes of dogma which claimed to explain scripture, but which had hardly any connection with the text. As one writer of the period observed: "It is better not to be taken up with new ideas, but to be filled from the fountain of the ancients." Filled, indeed!

The shift of biblical studies to the university unearthed the Bible from this debris of the past.

For hundreds of years the plain, the historical, sense of the text had been smothered by a swarm of mystical and imaginative interpretations. Each text was said to have four meanings as expressed in the following 16th century verse:

The letter shows us what God and our fathers did;
The allegory shows us where our faith is hid;
The moral meaning gives us rules of daily life;
The anagogy shows us where we end our strife.[6]

Little, if any, attention was given to the straight forward meaning. It was suffocated and obscured by fanciful meanings.

The shift of scripture study to the university resulted in attention to the literal and the historical. Impetus was given to the study of Hebrew, and in the production of literal and historical commentaries on the Bible. Along with the emphasis on the historical sense came an effort to be objective. No longer could the exegete conveniently and subjectively hide behind some shadowy symbols or some dogmatic assertion, or some encrusted tradition. He was forced to a study of scripture which could be scrutinized and assessed by more objective standards. Now the Bible could be read and studied as expressing God's Word, rather than hiding it in a shadowy world of symbols. The Bible was now free to be God's Word.

If the study of religion belongs in academe, as I have argued from history, it must be taught accordingly. The methods employed, the course demands, and the anticipated outcomes must be in keeping with the academic community. The study of religion is to be pursued with the same academic rigor utilized in the study of other disciplines. No second class citizen should religion be in the curriculum of a college.

As Grant observes, while the modern historical study of the Bible could not have come into existence without the Reformation, it is nevertheless more the child of the Renaissance than the Reformation.[7] These two great movements of the human spirit teamed up in the 16th century to provide us with a serious scholarly study of scripture, freeing it from the suffocating tradition of the church and allowing its message to be heard again. The spirit of these two movements must continue to function in tandem today in the study of the Bible.

The inclusion of religion within the academic curriculum raises several significant questions for us who teach religion at Houghton College. What is the relationship between faith an learning, and between belief and reason? I recently noticed that while the Christian College Consortium has produced a series of books entitled Through the Eyes of Faith, and in this series has included the disciplines of history, psychology, literature, biology, and business--there is no reference to such a volume for religion. Should religion be studied through the eyes of faith?

In teaching religion courses are we to be confessional (catechetical) or are we to be critical? Do we indoctrinate or do we inform?

Should our nomenclature and course descriptions indicate studies about/in religion, or the teaching of religion?

Should we distinguish between the theological and the religious? This is a practice in higher education today where double sets of courses are offered, one in theology (generally in the seminary), the other in religion (generally in the university).

Note the extent of my questions. I am not dealing today with the effect that faith should have on the teaching of other disciplines--that is a critical but separate issue--but rather the effect that belief should have in the teaching of religion in a liberal arts setting.[8]

Certainly there must be openness and objectivity in our teaching.

It was Peter Abelard who dismayed many important churchmen of his time by his efforts to relate faith and reason in theology. His position is set forth in the following quotation: "The first key to wisdom is this constant and frequent questioning . . . . For by doubting we are led to question, by questioning we arrive at the truth."

As radical as this may sound, Abelard in his methods--if not always so with his conclusions--stands solidly in the Judeo-Christian tradition.

What does it mean to teach religion at Houghton which we characterize as a Christian liberal arts college? The qualification, "Christian," does not negate the "open-mindedness" of the liberal arts. The Judeo-Christian tradition has tolerated questions (even doubts, as is evidenced by the inclusion of Ecclesiastes in the Bible) and thus there is room for the exploration and discovery implied by the words "liberal arts" college. The genuine Christian is characterized by a desire to know the truth. The intellectual freedom implied in the liberal arts does not preclude the commitment implied by the word "Christian." Freedom does not require neutrality. The Christian commitment provides a cohesiveness to knowledge, preventing fragmentation and distortion.

George Buttrick has been quoted as saying that a mind that is open at both ends is nothing but a wind tunnel.[9] An open mind does not mean an empty mind, or a mind without orientation. There are those fundamental positions which are formed and informed by our faith in Christ.

While there is need for commitment, there is no room for narrowness of thought or spirit. Closure must not be sought in areas where such is not possible. I saw an advertisement for a theological seminary with the following testimonial in bold print: "My professors have not solved problem areas in Old and New Testament texts; they've said, 'those are difficult texts, what do you think?'"[10] Integrity demands such an attitude.

I am gratified that Houghton is not only a Christian college but a church-related one. Such an accountability is critical in an age when we have witnessed the irresponsibility of free lancing individuals and organizations. Houghton College has an obligation to serve The Wesleyan Church and to further her global ministry and out reach. But this attachment does not demand blind and bland endorsement of the church's actions or teachings. Even as the church has a prophetic ministry to her constituency and to the world, so the college has a prophetic relationship to the church. Not only should the church turn to Houghton for confirmation, but also for challenge and leadership.

But not only is there the tension between faith and reason, there is a second combination pertinent to the study of religion, as cited by the college mission statement. Not only should faith be combined with reason, but theory with practice. It is not only a matter of method, but also a matter of purpose.

Time does not allow, nor do arguments necessitate a lengthy treatment here.

As observed in a recent chapel address, Houghton graduates must not only be prepared to do well, they must also be prepared to do good. Clearly faith without works is dead.

Orthodoxy is incomplete without orthopraxy. Not only knowing, but also being is the responsibility of the classroom.

If the scriptures are correctly and effectively taught they will impact the entire person, permeating every area of life.

But there is a third and final tension critical to the teaching of religion here at Houghton, cited in the mission statement--the combining of life-long learning with service to others. It is also effectively presented in the term "scholar-servant." There is tension between the intellectual concerns of scholarship and the practical concerns of vocational training. While this tension is realized in all areas of the curriculum, it is particularly felt in the area of religious studies.

There is tension because of:

The academic background and orientation of the teacher, not to mention her research, are essentially academic. Knowing her subject, she knows what her students must learn.
The orientation of the liberal arts is toward the pre-professional.
The kind of, and the place of preparation for religious service are much debated.
The academic expectations of the college and the practical demands of the church can be at variance.

Actually while the resolution of this tension is difficult, it is not impossible. A variety of professional courses are offered in several academic areas, but all within the context of the liberal arts. The same thing has been and can continue to be done in religious studies. However, separating the intellectual and vocational, is artificial and contrived. The servant must be able to think, to reason and to communicate. Vocation is not only a matter of doing, but also a matter of knowing and thinking. He also serves who thinks!

Some mistakenly conclude that the academic is a hindrance to the practical. Such should not be. If the students we graduate eschew service, or do not know how to perform it, this does not necessarily reflect upon the liberal arts tradition. There are people who with or without academic preparation are poor practitioners.

If learning is at all effective and if it is true to its purposes, it must produce servants. To knowing and being we add doing.

My final emphasis is upon the word servant. It is one of the most meaningful words of the Bible.

In the Old Testament, Israel was chosen to be God's servant. On occasions Israel understood this designation to be one of privilege and position. She came to realize otherwise. The choosing did not result so much in privilege as it did responsibility--responsibility which led to suffering--hence the designation of Israel as the Suffering Servant. The choosing did not result so much in strength as in weakness. Therein is a message for us today.

 In the words of George Marsden:

Almost all the competing philosophies in the world today are ones that promise to put us in full control. If we can get the right technical skills, we will be in control. If we can just find the right therapies, or the right religion, or the right social programs, or the right revolutionary formula, we will be in control and solve our own or humanities' problems. Christian liberal arts in its essence teaches the opposite. It gives us perspective on ourselves and teaches us that ultimately we are limited. We are not in control.

Because we are neither celebrating humanity nor simply celebrating the Western tradition, Christian liberal arts education has an inbuilt answer to the charge of imperialism or chauvinism.

Christianity is of course essentially imperialistic in one sense, in that it works toward the goal that the world will be brought to Christ. But in its proper form, it is not an imperialism of power, but an imperialism of weakness.[11]

Of weakness of servanthood--only then are we in a position to trust God and serve humanity. Only then can we accept the challenge of Isaiah:

The Lord said to me,
"I have a greater task for you, my servant.
Not only will you restore to greatness
the people of Israel who have survived,
but I will also make you a light to the nations--
so that all the world may be saved."[12]

Copyright by author. 

1. Edd Rowell. "The University Press As 'Religious' Publisher," The Council of Socities For the Study of Religion
          (Vol.17, 1988) p. 78.

2. Martin E. Marty. What is Modern About the Modern Study of Religion? (Tempe, AZ: Arizona State           University, 1985), p. 2.

 3. David W. Lotz. "Continental Pietism" in The Study of Spirituality. Edited by Cheslyn Jones, et al. (New York:           Oxford Press, 1986), p. 452.

 4. Thomas W. Gillespie. "The Opening of the Christian Mind," The Reformed Journal (Vol. 38, Issue 9,           September, 1988), p. 10.

 5. Robert M. Grant. A Short History of the Interpretation of the Bible. (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, p. 83.

 6. Ibid., p. 85.

 7. Ibid., p. 92.

 8. Tim Dowley, et al. Eerdman's Handbook to the History of Christianity (Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdman's           Publishing Co, 1977), p. 275.

 9. Gillespie, op cit., p. 12.

 10. Advertisement of Union Theological Seminary in Virginia.

 11. George Marsden. "Christian Liberal Arts Education," The Reformed Journal (Vol 38, Issue 9, September,           1988), pp. 3-4.

 12. Isaiah 49:6 (TEV)

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