Thinking Faith blogs

Scholarship in good faith

In this post I want to show how faith lies at the heart of scholarship – perhaps in some ways that we hadn’t thought of before. I also want to explain why faith comes as the final virtue in our series ‘What is good scholarship?

Faith is a scholarly virtue at many levels.  First, we must have faith in the way the world is: trust in the underlying consistency of whatever we’re investigating.  Generations of natural scientists have conceived of ‘the laws of nature’ to justify their predictions and explain the accuracy of their inferences about the world.  ‘Law’ language may be falling out of favour now, but the so-called problem of induction remains, and scientists of all religious positions evidently practise what we might call ‘natural faith’.  And I’m convinced that every field of academic study assumes some kind of predictability or regularity in its subject matter: some underlying motifs, elements or tendencies that recur, so that what we write in our PhDs and papers will be relevant outside the immediate context in which we came up with it.

Library cartoonThen, of course, we need faith in our own minds.  We rely on our memories.  We seize upon problems believing we can solve them.  We immerse ourselves in the literature expecting to abstract something valuable and new from it. This leads on to the next category: faith in other people.

Like any communal enterprise, scholarship depends upon its practitioners trusting each other. If we suspected our peers and colleagues of making things up, we’d change career – but somehow the educational process by which we become scholars instills an admirable degree of professional honesty. We also need to trust in our interpretations of what others have written.Then we have faith that our area of study is worth our devotion.  This could be articulated in a profoundly personal way by every scholar, especially those whose work doesn’t seem likely to have consequences for daily life.  Why do people devote themselves to philosophyastronomyarchaeology or musicology?  Sometimes we may believe our discoveries could change the world, but often we don’t – and still less do some of our friends and family!

Christian faith in scholarship?

That’s a list of different kinds of faith in scholarship, hopefully none too controversial. But I’ve missed one, of course. As a Christian, I’m not going to forget the centrality of faith in God. We’ve had nine articles now about “good scholarship” but only occasional reference to classical Christian virtues (e.g. on social virtues, and generosity). Why this reticence?

The FiSch team believes that our ultimate faith commitments change our world.  For me, living in the story where Jesus Christ reveals how this world is meant to be the Kingdom of God colours everything.  Everything I wrote above – about faith in the world, myself, other people and my calling – is qualified by my conviction that it is God’s world, God’s creatures and God’s callings I’m thinking about – those of the transcendent God revealed in Jesus Christ.  For people living in other big stories, like a secular humanist one, ‘faith’ no doubt feels very different.  The scandal of Christianity is the claim that without knowing Jesus as Lord, people’s search for ultimate meaning fixates on something created, which ultimately cannot satisfy the demand placed upon it. And the focus of one’s faith ends up shaping not just one’s worldview but also behaviour – and hence other people’s lives too. The kind of faith we have in scholarship really matters!

How this works out needs exploring at greater length, and a final post in this series will suggest some echoes of faith in the other scholarly virtues we’ve looked at.

Hendrik Witbooi – Inspiring Soldier

Theme

In his famous sermon on the mount, Jesus calls his disciples to live in a radically new way. He challenges all his followers to love their enemies. This can be very difficult for sinful human beings who are prone to hatred, idolatry and evil thoughts. Hendrik Witbooi was a black African general who loved his enemies. He treated his German enemies with amazing mercy when they were destroying Hendrik's tribe. He loved his enemies in a war zone.

Scripture

But I tell you: Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be sons of your father in heaven.

Matthew 5:44

Story

Hendrik Witbooi was a king of the Nama people and he lived in the part of Africa we now call Namibia. His face is portrayed on the obverse of all Namibian dollar banknotes. He served God as a general of the Nama army when his tribe was attacked by the German army.

In the war (1904-1905) Hendrik went to extraordinary lengths to ensure the safety of German non-combatants, women and children. This deeply Christian man made sure that ‘enemy’ civilians were completely unharmed. His soldiers escorted German women, children and farmers back to the German lines. He treated his prisoners with the utmost respect because he believed that all people are created in the image and likeness of God.

His behaviour in the war can be contrasted with the German General Lothar von Trotha (1848-1920) who defeated the Herero (another African tribe) army at the battle of Waterburg. Callously von Trotha drove the Hereros into the desert of Omahake where many of the Herero combatants died of thirst.

The German soldiers were ordered to poison all the water-holes in the region and they were ordered to take no prisoners and to do nothing for the remaining women and children. Many of them were either shot or abandoned in the desert. The Herero population, which in 1904 had numbered about 80,000 people, had been reduced to fewer than 20,000 one year later. Von Trotha referred to the Nama and Hereros tribes as 'cattle' or 'stock'! He ordered his soldiers to kill 'enemy' women and children. Many of the Nama tribe were also slaughtered by the German army.

Again it is very instructive to compare and contrast two soldiers. The black, African general Hendrik Witbooi followed the Lord Jesus and the white, German general Von Trotha did not.

Generosity as an intellectual virtue

This is how God showed his love among us: He sent his one and only Son into the world that we might live through him. … Dear friends, since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another. (1 John 4:9,11)

We return to our series on good scholarship and fittingly, as we have just celebrated God’s self-giving love in the sacrifice of His Son, this week’s focus is on generosity. Generosity means giving beyond duty. At first glance, there seems to be quite a lot of generosity around in academia. As a PhD student, I was surprised at how willing other researchers were to help me: providing access to museum collections in their care, helping out with fieldwork, or even sharing unpublished data with me. Now, as I approach the end of my second postdoc, I have become more cynical, expecting other motives to be in the background: people may expect to be co-authors on publications, or look for favourable reviews of their own publications, or seek to strengthen their reputation. And the same goes for academic institutions as a whole: when you bring in a prestigious grant, you are fêted and paraded around. But as soon as your grant runs out, expect no further investment from your institution.

Now of course I am generalising here, and I am sure many researchers do act out of true generosity, a desire to help others, and to further their field of research as a whole and benefit wider society. I am grateful for many colleagues who really have freely given of themselves to me. It seems, therefore, that generosity is primarily a matter of attitude.

As Christians, we should be keen to give freely of ourselves. When we remember whom we serve, we remember that Christ was willing to give his life for us. God so loved the world – and all people in it, including our colleagues – that He gave his only Son. And we are called to have the same self-giving mindset as Christ (Phil. 2: 5-11). So what would this look like in practice in academia?

In the competitive environment of academia, there are many opportunities to practise generosity. Acknowledge other researchers’ contributions to your work, and welcome them to take ownership of joint work. Strive particularly to reach out to researchers from places without as much access to libraries, expensive journal subscriptions, and research facilities. Help those who are less advanced in their studies to develop their ideas and take initiative in their research. If you are teaching, make yourself available to students, whether brilliant or struggling. Give back to the people who fund your research (often the taxpayer!) by taking part in outreach activities.

I must admit to a struggle in this area, however. Maybe some of you who read this can offer your own comments. I personally have a rather limited energy store. So whilst I would love to say ‘give sacrificially of your time and strength’, I know that if I put that into practice, it would probably negatively affect my health, and thus, in the long term, my ability to give to others. In the same vein, there are jobs that I might sacrificially offer to do that I am not actually very good at. So we need to prayerfully consider what we can and cannot do, and what our gifts are. But let us be willing to serve others out of love for Him who loved and served us.

Common Good and Kingdom of God: Implications for Christian Scholarship

This post is the third of a short series summarising the three main talks given by Jonathan Chaplin and Adrienne Dengerink Chaplin at the Faith-in-Scholarship conference in February. (Summary of Jonathan’s first talk. Summary of Adrienne’s first talk.)

To finish the conference Jonathan and Adrienne gave a joint talk entitled ‘The common good and the kingdom of God: implications for Christian scholarship’. Jonathan began by reflecting that Christian scholarship seeks the common good of society. As we find in the book of Jeremiah, God’s people are told to ‘seek the peace of and prosperity of the city’ (29:7). We can be a part of this as Christian academics. We can aim, together with our non-Christian colleagues, to be engaged in the same pursuit of truth, advancement and dissemination of knowledge and culture.

There is, however, perhaps obviously to many Christians, a striking problem with this. In our pluralistic society we have no shared vision of sources or content of truth, or definition of reliable knowledge, or even understanding of what is valuable in culture. We have a plurality of perspectives partly overlapping, partly diverging, contending with one another.

What are we to do about this problem? Jonathan suggested that we may uphold a ‘principled pluralism’. We should honour deep differences arising from different worldviews. We should have respect for freedom of conscience and its public expression as far as possible and protect the university from resistance to this. On the face of it, however, this may cause some Christians to kick back. Promoting pluralism is not seen as beneficial by many Christian groups because they realize that there is only one truth and not a plurality. Jonathan was insistent, however, that ‘principled pluralism’ should not be mistaken for ‘relativist pluralism’ or ‘pragmatic pluralism’: relativist pluralism being an acceptance that truth is plural, and pragmatic pluralism (I take it) meaning that we, together, can aim towards finding the most appropriate truth for our society at the current time.

Jonathan concluded from all of this that we should not, therefore, cultivate ‘Christian’ scholarship or institutions merely for their own sake, but to work for the common good. This, of course, does not preclude the exercise of Christian critique of our culture, but Christian scholarship should not fundamentally mean providing Christian critique. Rather, as Jonathan notes, ‘Christian scholars should be ready to bring their authentic perspectives on common goods to bear in public debate in academy and society over many issues’. These authentic perspectives are inspired by ‘a transformative vision of [the] kingdom of God’.

Adrienne and Jonathan then helped us to see what this might look like on the ground. The applications were far reaching, and go beyond the scope of this short post, but I will mention one application here. This is that we, as Christians, should be entering existing debates within our prospective fields. We need not give a critique of that field straight away; rather we can first seek to find answers to recognised problems by drawing upon certain aspects of the Christian worldview. Adrienne, for example, mentioned that she was told by her PhD supervisor not to use biblical reasoning when engaging in the topic of her PhD. She was, however, able to use the resources of her Christian worldview to enrich her work nonetheless. In doing so she was able to further debates in her field from the perspective of a transformative vision of kingdom of God.

The Extraordinary Story of August Francke (1663 - 1727)

Be inspired by this story of faith in action!

August Francke was a preacher. pastor and professor of theology and he lived in Halle which is near Leipzig in Germany. Francke had a huge influence on George Müller, the famous orphan lover.

By a series of wonderful and providential events, he completed a huge building whose programmes included – a library of over 20,000 volumes, six schools, an orphanage, a home for poor widows, a hospital, an establishment for strolling beggars, a museum of natural history and a printing house devoted to making Bibles, hymnals and Christian literature. This man had both faith and a broad cultural vision. He reminds me of both William Carey and Abraham Kuyper.

One day he had to pay the construction workers but he did not have any ‘geld’ and so he prayed to God for provision. At the end of that day, the paymaster came and asked if he was going to be able to pay the labourers. The answer was – no. Just then a student knocked on the door and reported that someone who wished to remain anonymous had brought a pouch with thirty gold talers. Francke then went back into the other room and asked the foreman how much was needed for the payment of the builders. He replied, “Thirty talers.” Francke said, “Here they are,” and asked if he needed more. He said, “No.”’

Francke said this event strengthened the faith of both him and the foreman and they “recognized so evidently the wonderful hand of God.”

One day when he desperately needed funds to carry on his work, a destitute Christian widow came to his door begging for one gold ducat. Hard up, he politely but regretfully refused. Disheartened, the woman was so desperate she sat down and began to cry.

Moved by her tears, Francke asked her to wait while he went to his room to pray about the matter. Seeking God’s guidance, he felt that the Holy Spirit wanted him to grant the request. Trusting the Lord to meet his own pressing needs, he gave her the money.

Two mornings later he received a warm letter of thanks from the widow saying that because of his generosity she had asked the Lord to shower the orphanage with gifts. That same day he received 12 ducats from a rich lady and two from a friend in Sweden.

He thought he had been amply rewarded, but shortly afterward he was informed that Prince Lodewyk Van Wurtenburg had died, and in his will had directed that 500 gold pieces be given to the orphanage! Francke wept in gratitude.

In the year 1727, when Francke died, there were in all the schools connected with his establishment two thousand two hundred pupils!

Faith, truth and experience in art and scholarship

This post is the second of a short series summarising the three main talks given by Jonathan Chaplin and Adrienne Dengerink Chaplin at the Faith-in-Scholarship conference in February. (Summary of Jonathan’s first talk.)

Adrienne’s talk, on ‘Faith, Truth and Experience’, drew in particular on her own expertise in the field of aesthetics and the philosophy of art. The starting point was an exploration of what function the concepts of truth and meaning might serve in the context of artistic experience. There is a tendency in Western thought to view truth as something that is inextricably bound up with language; each of the dominant philosophical theories of truth (including the correspondence theory, the coherence theory and the consensus theory) is based on the assumption that ‘truth’ is something communicated through clear, grammatically correct and unambiguous sentences that relate to real situations in the world. From this viewpoint, truth is not something that can be conveyed through art, music or poetry, or through non-linguistic dimensions of experience such as the emotions.

This stance, however, is a departure from the etymology of the word ‘truth’ itself, both as an English term and in its Biblical cognates. ‘Truth’ stems from the Old English word ‘treowe’, which conveys faithfulness in a much broader sense, much as we might talk about a ‘true friend’. The term most often translated as ‘true’ in the Old Testament is אֱמֶת (emeth), which again suggests faithfulness or steadfastness – for example in Psalm 36:5: ‘Your love, Lord, reaches to the heavens, your faithfulness to the skies’. Here, truth is bound up not with linguistic correspondences but with trustworthiness, with faithfulness to an established relationship.

In the New Testament, the Greek term ἀλήθεια carries similar resonances, but it also means literally unveiling or disclosure; it is the negation of λήθεια, which means something hidden or forgotten (it is the root of our word ‘latent’). In the Bible, the ultimate example of truth as disclosure is Jesus: he is the Word made flesh, and he reveals the Father to us, not just through his teachings but through the totality of his life. Truth is thus not just about statements that correspond to reality, but rather about  lived experience.

God’s disclosure in creation is the precondition of all human knowing. Different kinds of scholarship build on this in different ways. Science uses careful observation to go beyond appearances and reveal more about a certain aspect of the world. By contrast, art engages directly with these appearances, and its focus on the totality of our experience of the world rather than a specific aspect. It is a kind of imaginative disclosure that involves all our senses.

This poses a challenge. Christian views on art have often stressed its effectiveness as a way of transcending the senses: for example, the idea that visible beauty can point us towards the invisible God. Where its sensory qualities have been acknowledged, they have often been seen as immoral or self-indulgent; this all shows the impact of mind-body dualism upon Christian thought. But if we reclaim the multi-sensory nature of art, we find that it can serve as a powerful form of intimate contact with the world. It teaches us to see things as they really are; it feeds our imagination, and as a result nurtures our empathy; it gives a voice to affective experience; and, ultimately, it can disclose truth.

Scholarship: a Christian and human vocation

At the recent Faith-in-Scholarship conference, ten participants spent an intensive 22 hours with the six FiSch Fellows and two guest speakers: Jonathan Chaplin and Adrienne Dengerink Chaplin. This post is the first in a short series giving you a flavour of the three main talks.

The first talk was by Jonathan on ‘Scholarship as a Christian — and a human — vocation’. Jonathan is a specialist in Christian political thought, and is Director of the Kirby Laing Institute for Christian Ethics (KLICE), which is based at Tyndale House in Cambridge.

Christian scholars should view their work as a ministry given to them by God. This could be because it provides opportunities for evangelism, or because Christian scholars can serve the church. But it would be wrong to see those as the principal purpose of Christian scholarship. Christians ought to approach scholarship, first and foremost, as a shared, human vocation.

Before returning to that theme, it is worth considering the context in which this scholarship (usually) takes place: the modern university, which is the site of a contest between modernity and postmodernity.

The project of modernity started out as ‘faith seeking understanding’ but ended up insisting that faith was strictly inadmissible in all disciplines except theology. Now, although there is a proper ‘differentiation’ of knowledge into distinct disciplines, which will (rightly) lead to a distinction between theology and other areas of knowledge, the dominant reason for excluding faith considerations from scholarship was more an attempt to assert the primacy of ‘objective’ knowledge over ‘subjective’ faith. However, modernity failed to produce universal knowledge, and instead gave rise to numerous warring paradigms.

The very notion of ‘objective’ knowledge has been radically questioned in postmodernity, according to which all knowledge is ultimately particular and contingent. So, while modernist scholarship remains deeply suspicious of any attempt to allow a religious faith to shape it from within, there are now some postmodern ‘cracks in the secular’. These reveal a new openness to faith-based commitments and to a diversity of standpoints, including Christian perspectives.

Scholarship is a shared human vocation, because all scholars are part of the same creation. In the Bible, ‘wisdom’, ‘knowledge’ and ‘understanding’ are about being aligned with the created order. And the particular kind of reasoning involved in scholarship is one route to wisdom.

But the creation we are investigating is now a fallen one. We do our scholarship with a certain blindness to the true order of creation, and we are prone to lapse into all kinds of intellectual and ideological distortions. Thus there is an ‘antithesis’, not between Christians and non-Christians, but between truth and falsehood.

This leads us to the theme of scholarship as a Christian vocation. There is a promise of redemption for the fallen creation. Christ was present at the origin of creation as well as in its redemption (see Colossians 1:15–17; Hebrews 1:1–3), so in pursuing faithful scholarship we will always be moving towards Christ. And this is the deepest basis for the dignity of the Christian and human scholarly calling.

Finally, what is the goal of scholarship? It is not just about intellectual transformation: scholarship is intended to serve society and humanity.

In summary, Christian scholarship may be described as: ‘a transformational vocation to acquire critically-oriented systematic rational insight into, and to disclose truth about, some facet of created, fallen and redeemed reality, in the light of an intellectual framework responsive to the fullness of biblical revelation, in critical dialogue with others, and in service of humanity’.

William Tyndale and Cobblers

Theme

When William Tyndale lived there was a great deal of discussion about the heart of the Christian faith. In medieval times the Roman Catholic church taught Christians that only priests, monks and nuns had proper callings. The rest (the laity) were without proper callings as they struggled to put bread on the table, jam on spoons, nappies on babies and manure on the fields. At the very top of this hierarchy was the Pope. Then came the cardinals, the archbishops and the bishops. Next were the priest and the deacons. Beneath these church-focused callings came the laity. At the very bottom of the laity were men and women who made shoes. William Tyndale was to get into a great deal of trouble for saying nice things about cobblers!

Scripture

For we are God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.

Ephesians 2:10

Story

William Tyndale was a great Christian leader in the 16th century. Little is known about his childhood. Tyndale was born in about 1494 in Gloucestershire. His family were well off and William was encouraged to read and learn. In 1515 he went to Oxford University where he began studying theology. However he was very troubled that studying the subject did not involve reading the Bible! At that time the Church neglected the Bible. Many of the clergy were very ignorant of Scripture. William Tyndale was a godly man and he began studying the Bible himself and took great care to understand the teachings of Jesus.
Tyndale returned to Gloucestershire and he got a job as a tutor to the children of Sir John Walsh. Tyndale also became a popular preacher. He was passionate to teach people about the Bible and he soon found himself accused of heresy (false teaching).

William Tyndale was keen to translate the New Testament from Greek into English. (Tyndale was a brilliant linguist and he was fluent in Greek, Latin, Spanish, French and German. He later taught himself Hebrew). However Tyndale needed permission to translate it and in 1523 he went to London. While in London Tyndale continued his preaching. However he was unable to obtain permission to translate the New Testament. Eventually Tyndale realized he would never be allowed to translate it while in England so in 1524 he moved to Germany.

William Tyndale translated the New Testament from the original Greek into English. The new translation was printed in 1526 and copies were smuggled into England. Catholics in England were alarmed. The bishop of London banned the new translation calling it ‘that pestiferous (breeding disease) and most pernicious poison dispersed throughout our diocese of London’. In October 1526 he burned copies of the New Testament. However despite the bishop burning copies of the book it continued to circulate.

In 1538 William Tyndale published a book called The Parable of the Wicked Mammon. (Mammon is an old word meaning material wealth). It was banned in England in 1530. In 1528 Tyndale published a book called The Obedience of a Christian Man in which he attacked the corruption and superstition which was rife in the Church in England at that time. He then began translating the Old Testament from Hebrew into English.

Tyndale became very unpopular with many Catholic people because he taught that:

There is no work better than another to please God; to pour water, to wash dishes, to be a souter (cobbler) or an apostle, all is one; to wash dishes and to preach is all one, as touching the deed, to please God.

Tyndale had discovered a wonderful truth in the Bible. Ordinary people (cobblers, carpenters, cleaners etc) can serve God without becoming priests, bishops or monks. He argued that all Christians are priests and can spill the aroma of Jesus as they bake pies, make shoes and clean dirty ovens!

Sadly in May 1535 William Tyndale was betrayed by an Englishman called Henry Phillips. He was arrested and tried for heresy. Finally in October 1536 Tyndale was martyred. He was strangled then burned in the market square of Antwerp. The last words of William Tyndale were 'Lord open the King of England’s eyes'.

Inspiring Story of Brazilian Footballer Gilberto Silva

Theme

It is the mark of a true Christian to love both God and neighbour. It is very instructive to compare and contrast the lives of John Westwood and Gilberto da Silva. Both men love football but one does this in a good way and the other in a bad way. John has a tattoo on his chest that tells us what he really believes – "I'm Portsmouth till I die". Gilberto da Silva was a brilliant defensive midfield player who played football to the glory of God. He gave up professional football for six months in order to care for his mother when she became ill. What a role model he is!

Scripture

Jesus replied: "Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind." This is the first and greatest commandment.

Matthew 22:37

Story

Gilberto Silva is a former Brazilian player who also played for Arsenal as a defensive midfield player. He has very strong Christian beliefs. For example as a young, highly promising professional, he gave up football for 6 months in order to be with his mum when she was very ill. He wanted to support his family both emotionally and economically. All his friends thought he was totally crazy! But Gilberto lacked their tunnel vision.

Thankfully his mother did not die but recovered. He says – "I believe in God. I know a lot of people who don’t. I am a Catholic and I think when you make a sacrifice in your life you are repaid in the future – and that’s what happened with me."

He is now very grateful to God for his present happy life. He is very glad he can help his family, friends and their children.

A few years ago he helped support a 17-day tour of Brazil by a group of homeless players from the UK. Organized by Street League, a scheme for homeless refugees and asylum-seekers, it gave the group a chance to see that life in Brazil can be even tougher than here. A delighted Gilberto revealed that, since returning, one player had joined a club, another was coaching and a third had landed a decent job.

Although Brazil has many problems Gilberto stresses that he grew up in a poor village where everyone knew each other and were very friendly and cooperative. Gilberto loves football but in a way that honours the teachings of Jesus.

Justice as an intellectual virtue

The fact that Christians put a strong emphasis on justice is nothing new. At my church we’re currently working through Amos in our home groups. Amos surveys the surrounding lands and finds great injustices occurring there. He notices that injustices are occurring in (i) the law courts (Amos 2:6), (ii) the market place (Amos 2:7), (iii) the bedroom (Amos 2:7) and (iv) religious temples (Amos 2:8). They’re all areas where justice is not being done; areas that God, so it seems, cares equally about but where His good standards are not being applied.

How does the good of justice apply in academic life? I want to suggest that it affects us in two ways: content and culture.

First, consider the content of our research. If we’re to be imaging God (Gen. 1:27) then we are to be concerned, like Him, with doing justice (in the doctrinal and social sense) in every aspect of our work. We are to be agents in His world bringing justice to those who are oppressed (Rom 13:3-5). Given God’s concern with all areas of life as demonstrated in Amos we must see all of the issues (doctrinal and social) as important. I was recently at a talk by Charles Taliaffero (a Christian philosopher) who defends a similar position to me with regards to the question ‘What are we?’ This talk was a particularly useful rebuke on this issue for me. At this talk I expected him to give a defence of the doctrinally orthodox Christian view we both share. But, instead, he called philosophers concerned with the above question to consider a more rounded intellectual strategy. Not just be concerned with defending the propositional statements they find most attractive but be concerned with thinking hard about the ramification of these positions in society.

Second, consider the academic culture. It’s no secret that the academy is rife with injustices. People take more credit for their work than they’re really due. We all live by the mantra ‘publish or perish’ and this means that people publish papers that are, let’s admit, not furthering a particular area of research but simply reinventing the wheel. People get jobs because of who they know and not because they’re the best candidate. The university wants departments to make more money – not to be seeking truth. All of these things seem to be injustices to me. How are we to be agents of justice in the culture of the academy? I daresay just not doing the above is not good enough. We need to be seeking ways to minimise injustices. In practice how might this be done? I don’t know the precise answer. Will encouraging open access be one step in the right direction? Will making use of blogs be another (they can encourage fruitful dialogue that can be hindered by the peer review process)? What I do know, however, is that there are injustices and we cannot sit idly by. Given God’s concern for justice and our imaging Him it’s surely something we can be thinking about more often.

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