FiSch blog

In Cambridge just over a week ago an audience of postgrads and other researchers gathered to think about the relationship between "Revelation and Reality".  This was the title of the 6th annual Forming a Christian Mind conference, co-organised this year by the Jubilee Centre, Christian Heritage, KLICE, UCCF and Cambridge's own Christian Graduate Society.  While the talks were helpful at a general level, the most exciting facet in my view was that, for the first time, this year's conference serves as a springboard to a follow-up conference where we can explore Christian perspectives on our own academic disciplines.  That's scheduled for 9 February 2019.

The event ten days ago was helpful for laying some groundwork - particularly the morning sessions.  After some opening remarks by Tim Laurence, Andrew Fellows spoke engagingly about "Re-awakening the biblical mind" and then Chris Wright spoke about "Retrieving the biblical meta-narrative".  These talks provided an overview of a biblical worldview and some pointers to how it might shape our perspective on contemporary society and its challenges.  If God's revelation in the Bible is taken seriously, it can provide a key to our interpretation of reality.  This includes, as both speakers pointed out, recognising the inherent goodness of the created order and being confident as we participate in its structures: our animal nature, our family life, our economic functions, our civic roles and so on.  At the close of the morning session there was mention of Abraham Kuyper's legacy concerning the many societal spheres in which God's people should be pleased to live.

Chris Wright's talk was based on the overview of the biblical meta-narrative that Craig Bartholomew (now director of KLICE, as it happens) and Mike Goheen popularised as a six-act drama in their book The Drama of Scripture.  The first act is Creation, as God establishes the cosmos as His temple of glory. The second is Rebellion, in which humans turn away from their creator and pervert the functioning of the created order. The third act comprises the long story of God's people that culminates in the life of Jesus Christ, which itself is Act 4. The fifth act is another long journey as God's people bear witness to Christ's lordship, striving to participate in the coming of His kingdom. This is where, chronologically, we find ourselves. The final act in Bartholomew and Goheen's scheme looks ahead to the return of Christ and the new creation. At this point, Chris suggested that an additional act be inserted: Act 6 as the judgment carried out by Christ at his return. This rights the wrongs of Act 2, a necessary precursor to the eternal reign of Christ with his people in the age to come - which becomes Act 7.  The 7-act structure that Chris proposed also has a pleasing symmetry, with the Christ-event central.

The important question is: how does retrieving this meta-narrative actually illuminate or guide our scholarship as Christians?  Chris pointed out that while, chronologically, we clearly live in Act 5, for various purposes we may locate ourselves within other acts.  For those of us working within the natural sciences - or maths - I think it's essential to place ourselves within Act 1 for the focus of our research. The laws and structures that scientific research seeks are part of that good created structure - even while our actual research activities may suffer from the effects of sin in various ways.  Sometimes and in some contexts, a Christlike approach to a problematic, sin-infested situation may call for nothing less than our immersion in Act 4. And perhaps our loftiest motivations and aspirations as researchers should be rooted in an anticipation of the final act, in which the fruits of our scholarship might, figuratively, be brought into the new Jerusalem amid the glory and honour of the nations (Rev 22).

As someone who has been excited by this kind of big-picture Bible reading for many years, I did experience some disappointment that last week's event didn't take us further in suggesting how Christian perspectives might enrich research in diverse kinds of fields. It was also disappointing that the audience numbered fewer (perhaps 50) than in previous years. But that is offset by my strong hope that the event on 9 Feb will make up for these deficiencies. Four speakers delivering parallel sessions for different subject areas are promised at that event, which is open to researchers from around the country.  Watch this space for news or check the Jubilee Centre's web site.

What is the relation between religion (in the sense of ultimate commitments) and the academic disciplines?  Frequently any positive relationship is denied. The sciences claim to have become autonomous (a law to themselves) with respect to philosophy, let alone religion. And the various schools of philosophy claim to be autonomous with respect to religion. It is generally admitted that this was not always so, but it is now claimed that since the disciplines have come of age, having developed their own methodologies and concepts, they are now autonomous (1) with respect to each other, (2) with respect to philosophy and (3) with respect to religion.

If this Enlightenment view of intellectual maturity is embraced, then religion has no structural role in the special sciences (including even theology) or in philosophy.  Any mention of religion, other than as a phenomenon to study, would be seen as a reactionary and obscurantist intrusion: a source of bias and distortion leading to a loss of scholarly neutrality. Scientific scholarship then requires the elimination of all metaphysics and religion - especially the Christian religion, so awkwardly intertwined with the rise of modern science!

The bush model illustrated here presents an alternative view of intellectual maturity.  The truly critical thinker will seek to explicate the philosophical presuppositions of the special sciences and the religious commitments underlying various philosophical approaches and methodologies. If the three autonomies mentioned above - especially (2) and (3) - are impossible in principle (as Herman Dooyeweerd argued and as growing numbers of scholars are starting to concede, albeit reluctantly) then a Christian re-formation of philosophy and all academic disciplines is possible.  Indeed, it is necessary: for it is mandated by the First Commandment: to love God with our minds [1], and so to make every thought subject to the lordship of Christ [2].

The diagram here illustrates, for the sake of argument, three religious roots that have intertwined in the development of academic disciplines. Theism, materialism and humanism underpin a range of worldviews (pre-theoretical, non-scientific commitments) that have motivated academic work. They in turn produce systematic philosophies that spawn analytical research in communities gathered into a range of disciplines. Paradigms (in Thomas Kuhn's sense, but also see here) are generated in each discipline, and working within these, academics hold to theories that contain laws, structures and typologies. These in turn lead to hypotheses, which may in time become new laws and so on. Any of these elements may also in time be discarded - but generally not (pace Popper) on the occurrence of a single refutation: even hypotheses are theoretical commitments! (Dirk Stafleu has explored this paradox [3].)  At the tips of the twigs here, we have observations represented as leaves. These have a different status from the other 'tools of thought' because they are unique particular experiences. Data are not so much part of scientific knowledge but guide our discernment of the underlying structure of reality, represented by the rest of the bush.

Finally, this model makes clear that there is no simple deductive relationship between religion and the contents of the academic disciplines. What is proposed is a hierarchy, with the lower levels providing the conditions for the possibility of the higher ones: their transcendental pre-conditions. What should also be clear is that the development of Christian philosophy is a prerequisite for a serious Christian renewal of the disciplines (what Dooyeweerd calls the special sciences), for otherwise they will remain in the grip of non-Christian philosophies and religions. Without Christian philosophy there cannot even be a Christian academic theology that is faithful to the biblical religion.

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[1] Matthew 22:37

[2] 2 Corinthians 10:5

[3] See MD Stafleu (2016), Theory and Experiment, section 10.1

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Richard Russell is a philosopher and ordained Anglican minister. Previously a lecturer in philosophy at Trinity Christian College, Chicago, he is now based in Somerset, England. His Christian Studies Unit online bookshop helped introduce countless thinkers to the riches of the Reformational tradition. The graphic in this post is based on a series of pen-and-ink diagrams that present a range of facets of the philosophy of Herman Dooyeweerd​.

Guest blogger Audrey Southgate reflects on lessons drawn from studying a morally problematic figure. 

Some view the past as a shackle from which the present must free itself. By contrast, I grew up delighted by the stories that linked the present with the past. At church, at home, and at school, stories of admirable figures from history served as a source of inspiration. There was no question that we had much to learn from the subjects of these stories, whether Christian martyrs, great-grandparents, inventors, or other heroes. Surrounded by such stories, I came to look to authors from the past for timeless insights that would clarify my perspective in the present.

This became somewhat more difficult, however, when I found myself writing my undergraduate dissertation on Ezra Pound. Far from an exemplary figure, Pound is perhaps as infamous for the anti-Semitic slander and fascist sympathies he endorsed in broadcasts during World War II as he is famous for his contributions to modernism in poetry. Like his public views, Pound’s private life was hardly something a Christian would want to emulate: he kept a mistress for most of his marriage and even lived in a ménage à trois for a couple of years. Moreover, his publications and personal correspondence display an arrogance that is corroborated by the recollections of those who knew him throughout his life.

Since I could not admire Pound in several important respects, could I learn anything from him? I had chosen the project because I wanted to learn from how this key modernist had engaged with tradition and ‘made it new’ in his own time. But his appreciation for the poetic heritage was accompanied by scorn for those who didn’t share it or appreciate it as he did. More troubling still, it was accompanied by adherence to one of the most vicious ideologies of the twentieth century. If looking to the past involved the evils Pound espoused, I could not learn from Pound – nor did I expect to learn from the past at all.

In the process, I realized that my expectations were inconsistent with my faith. If I believed that all are fallen, I should not be surprised to find serious faults in any person’s thinking and life. If I believed that God is the author of truth, I should strive to recognize his truths wherever they appear. And if I believed that God showers the earth with common grace, I should expect his truths to appear even in the mouths of faulty people. Rather than asking whether I could learn from Pound, I needed to ask what truths I could learn from Pound, and what faults I could learn to avoid from his example.

As it happens, I discovered Pound does have much to offer. Not only is he a representative of an era whose effects we still feel today; he also models a search for the meaning that transcends particular eras. Comparing art to a river, he described artists as concerned, not with the features of its banks at certain points, but with its ‘quality of motion’, or ‘that which flows’. Pound’s own overarching concern, expressed here, was with the essence of art that transcends the historical and geographical circumstances defining its reception.

Here and elsewhere, Pound suggests his utter commitment to the transcendent – but confines the transcendent to the human artistic tradition. Perhaps the widely-deplored problem with Pound lay, not in his appreciation of the past, nor in his appreciation of this artistic tradition across history, but in what he failed to appreciate from revealed history. He failed to see the source of beauty who transcends all history, and who gives meaning to it: the transcendent God who is also immanent, the Word who became flesh and came to dwell among us. And because of this, Pound failed, too, to practice the virtues of faith, hope, and above all love for God and man which are beautiful in all ages.

Pound thus serves as a warning not to let our appreciation of human traditions keep us from loving God or other people. At the same time, Pound serves as an encouragement to dedicate ourselves to pursuing what is truly timeless. In a way, the very magnitude of his failures makes him all the better as an example of the importance of seeking the Truth – and as an example of the importance of discerning the timeless truths a person expressed from the failings that invariably accompany these insights.

Audrey Southgate is working towards a DPhil at Merton College, University of Oxford, researching Lollards and the Psalms.

It’s a rainy day outside and my mind has wandered to puddles. Puddles are commonplace (in England especially!) without much beauty or substance, but they can do one great thing: they can reflect what’s above them.

I’ve been pondering distinctiveness in academia lately, asking: how does being a Christian affect how I navigate the academy? This has been a convicting exercise but a very helpful one. Below, I’ve jotted down a few ways I think I can reflect God better in academia, and I hope my own thoughts might inspire similar personal reflections in others.

Support students

I teach a lot of tutorials. I’m not the best teacher and I’m not the most knowledgeable. This is unlikely to change, but I can choose to care about my students. Like everyone else, I'm quite busy, but finding time to run a quick review session or meeting up to discuss an essay is a great way to support and care for my students. Time taken to serve others is a sacrifice, but it is certainly not wasted!

Invest in friendships

This is the one I’m the worst at—with so much going on, I find it hard to find time to invest in friendships at all, and I often end up ‘ghosting’ around my faculty because I’m too tired or lazy to invest there properly. But He’s placed me there for a reason. Friendship provides a chance to be in others’ lives, to let them into mine, to share my hope, and to build community.

Encourage each other’s growth

I happen to be at a very supportive faculty with a group of really nice researchers in my cohort, but below the surface somewhere, there lurks the truth that we are potential competitors for future jobs. Everything can seem to be a competition, but I must remember that I don’t need to enter the race. I want to congratulate others on their work, be humble and honest about my own, especially if I’m struggling a bit, because this demonstrates that no, research isn’t a matter of life and death to me. I want to make friends, support them, cheer for them. Maintaining a generosity of spirit can’t take anything from me that I need—I have all I need in Christ.

Be honest

This is a simple one, but one worth adding to the list. Truthfulness shows in one’s character in little and big ways, but maintaining truthfulness requires commitment. I find it can be easy to compromise honesty in the little things if I become lazy or lose sight of who am I and what I've been called to be! My word should be my bond.

Be dependable

We don’t usually describe Christ as ‘dependable’… the word seems far too dim for his glorious grace! But in fact, He is ultimately dependable. We screw up; He comes through. Over and over and over again. He can be relied upon to be there, to care, to help, to comfort. Do I demonstrate dependability in my own finite way at my faculty? Do I show up to meetings and tutorials on time? Can I be relied upon?

Express difficulties… but with hope!

When grad students get together, we tend to complain about difficulties in our work. Difficulties in research, in writing, with deadlines. Anything. Everything. I think it’s important to share where we’re actually at with people… that’s honest. But I’m as guilty of ‘grumbling’ as my non-Christian colleagues. By presenting my difficulties without any allusion—implicit or explicit—to the hope that I enjoy, I’m misleading them to ‘fit in’, rejecting an opportunity to talk about what really matters. I know whatever I am currently doing is not an ultimate, so why pretend that it is? I have every reason to be joyful, regardless of how my doctorate is going.

Don't speak badly about supervisors behind their backs

This relates to the one above. As a Christian, I should not be speaking about anyone behind their backs, but somehow it feels easy to make exceptions for advisors or supervisors because they are in authority over us and it would seem that not all of them are really good at supporting their students (though I’ve been very blessed with a great supervisor). It’s tempting to join in on supervisor-bashing as it allows us to connect with colleagues sharing a knowing smile and a roll of the eyes. But this is not how we are told to treat people—or those in authority. If I have a problem with a faculty member, I should speak to them directly before involving anyone else. This is hard… but we have Christ for a model!

Skip faculty events for church if you have to

There is an optional research colloquium that I have to skip every week because I lead a Bible study. I wish I could make it, but the time conflict has actually been a blessing in disguise. When faculty friends ask why I don’t make it to colloquium more, I have an opportunity to show that my faith takes priority in my life—even over professional growth or advancement.  

Be committed to work

Being a research student—at least in the humanities—can be very lonely and quite directionless. Nobody really knows how we should be using our time and therefore nobody really knows how we really do use our time. Without accountability, it can be really hard to commit to productivity—procrastination comes with the grad school territory! Diligence in work requires motivation, but when everyone is struggling to find theirs, I have a deep, unending source of it—if I dare to draw upon it. I am not working for myself or for man but for my Saviour and Redeemer!

I am a puddle: a bit grubby and dreary, finite and fleeting, but there is a sun above me and reflecting His beauty should be my chief delight and purpose!