Campus Blogs

It was a joy and privilege for me to attend our semesterly multicultural graduation celebration last week the day before FPU's Fall Commencement ceremonies. Many of our departments host special celebrations prior to commencement. Last week I also attended those for the BA in Liberal Studies, the BS in Nursing, and the MA program in Kinesiology. Usually I am there just to lend support. If a Dean or Provost (or better the President) shows up, it shows a bit of importance to the event, and students and families sense that importance. But beyond the official necessity—academic achievement as reflected in students graduating is what we exist to accomplish. It is both a privilege and joy to celebrate with our graduates and families in a smaller setting than the larger Commencement ceremony. We occasionally get questions about the multicultural celebration and the ethnic sashes that some of our students wear over their graduation gowns at the Commencement ceremonies. I have received a handful of these over the years, and I thought it might be a good time to provide a public answer. The questions are usually something like this: "Why would you single out specific groups for honor or sashes?" "If a few ethnic groups get specific recognition, why shouldn't all groups?" And "Commencement is a time for everyone to come together; doesn't singling out groups for recognition go against that common celebration?" First let me say that it our intent and our purpose for student from all ethnic groups, from all regions, and of all religious commitments to graduate at the same high level. Despite continued lower graduation rates among some minority groups across the country, we have adopted the policy of seeking to achieve the same success with all groups. We are, by the way, required to report on our graduation rates by ethnicity by our regional accreditor and by the federal government. You can find our public report on our disclosure webpage. In current discussion this is one of the ways in which universities demonstrate their commitment to the public good, not just the private good of individuals. In some years minority achievement for retention has surpassed the overall retention rate of the student body. We are proud of our students and of the university's achievement. That achievement does not come easily however. A higher percentage of our students of color are "first generation" university students than the average of the student body or than the majority population. And across ethnic groups—minority or majority—first generation university students achieve at about 15% less, according to some studies, than second and third generation university students. There is a simple reason for this in all probability. Second and third generation students are informally better prepared for what they will encounter in the university setting. Their parents and other family members have been university students; students have heard stories throughout their lives about what it takes to achieve a college degree; the family may have known that they had to make special provisions for their son or daughter while they were in school. When that practical experience is missing, it seems that students are less ready, and less aware of what they must do to achieve a university degree. There is more to say here, and the research literature is illuminating, but I will leave it at that. When I work with parents prior to students coming to the university, I attempt to address all of the kinds of things that they can do to assist their students to complete their degree. For those who have been in a university, this is a good refresher. For those who have not, this is new information that they need. This is true, once again, across ethnic groups and color. It is true for white families, African-American, Hispanic and Southeast Asian. And information is not all they need. They need experience--we try then to make up for that experience with all students. One other way to help in that achievement is to celebrate who our students are, to welcome and embrace their identities, both their individuality and their ethnic heritage, and what they face in our current society. It is the case in American society, though we sometimes try to ignore it, that minority groups have been excluded, formally or informally, from social privileges and rights like higher education. To enter a place about which you have heard stories from friends and family of exclusion and deliberate denial of rights can seem like a foreign and threatening place. I have heard some of these stories from our students. They carry with them a burden that other students do not. We embrace those students by celebrating their overcoming of those historic and social barriers, their ability to carry those heavy burdens and to achieve academic success. Those in their families and communities who come after them will find it easier because of their struggle, discipline and achievement. One of the best days of the academic year is Commencement. We celebrate the achievement of all of our graduates and we give special recognition through the wearing of a distinctive sash, and an extra celebration with graduates family and friend to those who have achieved in the face obstacles.

It's already begun to happen. Each semester as I complete my course of teaching, and move toward completing grading final exams, I experience once again what I think might be a common experience for those of us who pursue an academic life. Into my mind come flooding ideas and topics to pursue, books to read, and considerations to test. Questions that I have not been able to answer adequately must be researched and creative impulses pursued to produce a paper or argument. Teaching consumes the mind, or at least my mind. I want to both know my subject, but also be ready to communicate it creatively, and to be able to respond to questions from whatever angle they come. Intellectual work can be exhausting, in my experience. By the end of the Spring semester especially I notice intellectual fatigue but I feel it at the end of the Fall semester too. I don't want to think about one more topic that I have to teach. Thinking and writing, experimenting and creating, outlining, explaining and creating teaching experiences for students (in detail and in the multiple ways in which students learn) is difficult and can be draining, even when we enjoy it. Teaching, communicating and bringing students along, attempting to understand them and their questions, their ways of knowing, and to guide them requires energy and requires our full attention. It takes a rested mind to think and communicate well, just as it takes a rested body to perform well athletically. I sometimes use the analogy with my students. What we do in class is like an athletic practice. We are becoming intellectual athletes. We need to learn basic skills; this requires multiple drills, sometimes without much thrill. (I know it is corny but memorable in its badness.) Most of my time is spent administering these days, but I still teach at least one class a year, and this takes up my extra time and mental energy. This semester it was a history of church and theology course for the FPU Biblical Seminary. Now as my grading is nearing completion, and I do not have to think about the next class session, re-read the assigned texts, follow-up on questions I or the students have raised, I feel the energy returning, the freedom to think and ponder. I begin (just begin right now) to feel the desire to read things that have been on my shelf, and to pursue questions that I want to pursue, not that must be covered in a class. This is the reason we have sabbaticals, research grants and attend academic conferences as participants and presenters. We are able then to pursue those questions that bring a new dimension to our teaching, they renew our energies as scholars, and sharpen our thinking. I have learned that this is not the pattern of normal human beings (yes, I meant to say it is not normal), but as I have spoken and lived with my colleagues at Fresno Pacific, I have learned that this is common to many of us who have sought this academic life. Perhaps it is what makes us professors. Here at FPU we have the privilege of thinking integratively--about science and faith at the same time, about religion and public life, about piety and justice together. It is energizing and intellectually satisfying way to live and work. Chaucer (of course) summed it all up memorably with his portrayal of the "clerk" or scholar, one of his ideal figures, in the General Prologue of The Canterbury Tales. The scholar is thin, out of shape, his clothes worn out, and he spends too much of his money on books. He doesn't cut it in fashionable society. But he prays for all of those who make it possible for him to study. He cares about what is true and right, and, Chaucer concludes, "gladly wolde he lerne and gladly teche." (The Middle English is not too difficult!) If you notice that we don't dress as well as we might, that we get excited about an old book or a new study, or if we are off again on a trip to collect specimens, or gather data, well this is what is required—gladly would the scholar "lerne" first before he presumes to teach. Teaching requires constant learning and exploring. Perhaps you know you are to be a "clerk" if you can't help yourself and must keep learning. As I write this early in the morning, I have four books in front of me that just begged to be pulled off the shelf. Like the scholar, I am grateful for the chance to learn and teach.

In a couple of previous posts I have attempted to explain how I approach "the integration of faith and learning." My conclusion: each of us does this out of our own faith journey, the traditions within which we think, work and worship. This, of course, implies that there will be many ways to do this. And I think I should add that there will probably be no, or perhaps, "pure" ways of doing this. What I mean by this is that there will be no one who is "purely Evangelical," "purely Anabaptist," or "purely scriptural," or "purely Social Justice" in her or his particular approach. We work within a uniquely multi-traditional setting, and our approaches, our ways of thinking and working are shaped by the mutual interactions that we encounter as we teach together, think together, and worship together. We influence each other. It is rich with possibilities and with experience. One way of approaching this multiplicity it to use a common outline or anatomy of spiritual schools and see if it helps us make sense of the predominant trends we will find among us. One such that a number of us have used in classes, in Student Life and Spiritual Formation, and for our own exploration is Richard Foster's Streams of Living Water: Essential Practices from the Six Great Traditions of the Christian Faith (1998). Let me outline these briefly and add a couple of notes on how "integration" might take place within each. The Contemplative Tradition--for many on our campus, I suspect, this tradition will be less familiar than others, but Foster lists if first. The predominant emphases on FPU's campus are activist and energetic. But a professor in the Catholic, Anglican, Orthodox, and in some Protestant denominations will find ways of bringing moments of silence and reflection to the work of a class. This tradition is in some ways connected to Christian higher education through writers influenced by the Quaker tradition, like Parker Palmer. Contemplation does not mean just mean contemplation of God, but it may also mean contemplation of the call by God to love those around us through the unique persons whom God has created us to be. The Holiness Tradition--the signal characteristic of this tradition is virtue. A professor might be led by their own formation in this tradition to focus on how the character of students develop, how their own souls are shaped and ready for service and professions. This has a natural fit with ethical classes, of course (which are imbedded in all our programs), but also with general approaches as in the "dispositional" approach in our School of Education. Evangelical and Mennonite Brethren churches have deep connections here. The Charismatic Tradition--the Charismatic tradition has influenced many of the other streams in our day. It is exuberant, confident of God's movement among those who believe, and of his speaking to us now, doing new things to convert, heal and bless his people. A professor will share with others in the Evangelical world an emphasis on the word and conversion, but with perhaps more emphasis on the unique personal, individual spiritual experience. The faith of the Charismatic may defy tradition, encourage us (both faculty and students) to look out beyond the normal, and see our world and work differently as under God's immediate control and blessing. Many of our faculty and students are followers of Christ within this tradition, and their outward joy and expressiveness shows up in classes and other settings. The Social Justice Tradition--this tradition is strong among us, perhaps often dominant, for we live in a region of both great wealth and great need. We approach Jesus as a prophetic teacher who calls for engagement on behalf of the poor and oppressed. This emphasis is integrated into our curriculum through service projects, visiting communities off campus, even creating business plans for social entrepreneurship. There is great need in our world for this and it is characteristic of the larger Anabaptist/Mennonite traditions of peacemaking and service, as well as Evangelical responses to God's grace (think of the Fresno Rescue Mission) and deep traditions within the Catholic Church of clerical and lay fraternities dedicated to service (think of Fresno's Poverello House). The Evangelical Tradition--we are a 'Bible-belt" region. The Evangelical tradition is marked by a Word (Bible) centeredness, the experience of conversion, missionary activity to spread the Gospel, individual energy and a low (informal) ecclesiology or understanding of the church. Foster puts Menno Simons among the Evangelical tradition, and to some extent he is correct. Most MB churches will have this character. But Menno and the MB world engages deeply also in the Social Justice tradition. A characteristic way of "integration" for a professor might find ways in which to relate biblical passages to a topic of discussion, of discuss opportunities for discipleship and short term missions. I have seen this approach in many of our classes all up and down the Valley. The Incarnational Tradition--Foster links this to the sacramental tradition, God becoming again incarnate, among and with us, through sacramental worship, and through seeing the world sacramentally. This is a weaker tradition among us, less emphasized in the Evangelical and Social Justice traditions, but we will see it by the way we teach students to see God's presence in the world, whether in a literature class, art, or in nature in environmental studies. There has been a steady stream of Evangelicals and Anabaptist towards more sacramental churches and ways of experiencing our faith and our world (myself among them) over the last 30 or 40 years. Well, these are obviously overlapping traditions, each shares something with others. We find all of these in the classrooms and curriculum at Fresno Pacific and a few others too. How do we do the "integration of faith and learning"? It depends on the professor, and the student, and the traditions which we bring to our mutual exploration and scholarly work. It might be any or several of these ways. Some will be dominant among us--the Evangelical, Social Justice and Charismatic, it seems to me. But all are represented. This outline might be one way to help us understand how we "integrate faith and learning" or better "how faith seeks understanding."

In my last post I argued that the phrase in the title of this post which indicates a certain way of seeing the purpose or distinctiveness of Christian Higher Education is not quite adequate. It is useful. It starts us on a path, but there are deeper ways of understanding our work that are more fruitful, more distinctive, and I think truer to the reality of academic work whether in religious or state institutions. This is a large claim; all I can hope to do is to sketch an outline of it. A more complete and profound way of thinking about human knowledge has developed in a variety of ways since the eighteenth century Enlightenment. Whether we think of the development of Romanticism, the thought of Kierkegaard, the "Gothic Revival" and return to traditional spirituality in the Oxford movement and beyond, Nietzsche's postmodern critique of rationalism, the traditionalist rediscovery of modernist poetry like that of T.S. Eliot, or some elements of post-modern thinking today there is a common element that recognizes that empiricist rationalism is an artificially restricted form of thinking. Each of these movements reaches out to something beyond mere rationality. Our globalized world which has offered greater understanding of Eastern Religions and philosophies like Taoism, Buddhism and Confucianism has helped in our reorientation. Underlying each of these movements is the recognition that human experience and perception of reality is broader than matter, chemicals, quantified reasoning or other similar limitations. Human beings experience and sense transcendence, a sense of being beyond us. A perception of deeper reality shapes our thinking. If we limit our experience to secular, material data, our thinking will reflect that limitation. If we open ourselves to a broader and deeper experience reflected in multiple intellectual and cultural movements and many, many thinkers and artists from across the globe, our thinking and understanding will reflect that openness and depth. Another way to say this is that all reasoning and thinking is in some way dependent on a faith of some kind. For our modern, scientific mind that faith is a limited one that brackets off transcendent experience as subjective and irrational. It chooses to ignore broad ranges of human experience. It gains precision and immediate utility. But it loses depth and insight into broader experience. It can tell us about chemicals in the brain, but cannot tell us about love. The faith of the movements outlined above is open to greater experiences and seeks something deeper, the "known unknown" as Bernard Lonergan calls it. Some thinkers use the symbol of a "horizon" to explain this pattern. We can think within a small or large horizon. As we open ourselves to the depth of human experience we enter an expanding horizon with broader vistas, more resplendent colors, and perhaps dramatic experiences. One must listen to those who have lived within these horizons and learn to see and experience, to grow beyond the limitations that have bound us. Other thinkers, the phenomenological schools for instance, argue that all knowledge is "intentional" in some way. We intend certain investigations, we look for data, and we can do so in limited and or open ways. We must learn to intend deeply, be attentive, and open to experience. Or as Polanyi argued, all knowledge is personal. It reflects personal experience and commitments. All this is to say that our common phrases in the modern world—faith as opposed to knowledge, reason as opposed to spirit—are not adequate. Faith and spirit are intimately involved in knowledge and reason from the beginning. The subjective is not irrational, but something that directs the rational element of our thinking. And similarly our thinking might help us open our perception to deeper spiritual experience. In different language forms, and through different symbols, ancient and medieval forms of thinking reflected this combination of elements. Speculative philosophy and theologies were experienced as "the mind's road to God," as St. Bonaventure said. Reason itself was something of a religious experience, a "theophanic event." As Boethius said, reason was given to us by God to lead us back to him. And for this he drew not on the theological works he had studied and written but on Greek philosophy. As St. Augustine said, our hearts our restless until they rest finally in God, and then he traced his own pilgrimage drawing on reason, Biblical revelation, and personal experience to find and describe an ever deepening faith and rationality at the same time. (One of the classic modern explanations of this is by Eric Voegelin in a little essay, "Reason the Classic Experience." I have attempted to develop his insights for the medieval experience in my teaching in the kinds of examples here.) So we might say that wherever we are, in whatever form of academic and intellectual work we do, knowledge and faith are already thoroughly integrated. The quality of our work and the depth of our understanding will depend upon not only on our intellectual ability (say in math, or technical research, or logic, or languages) but on the depth and range of our faith. When we close off our reason, attention, and intention from the depths and heights of human experience we live within a restrictive faith. When we open them to that experience, and to the ways in which God (the transcendent being) has sought us, revealed himself to us in the Christian community, church and scriptures and we have then encountered him, or been drawn into his presence, we might experience deeper understanding. In the Christian college and university all of this, I believe, gets worked out almost unconsciously. Not many of us take the time (or need to take the time and energy) to explore what I have attempted to outline here. But our experience and faith, and I hope our openness, provides an added dimension that might not be found in such a concentrated form elsewhere. It shows sometimes in implicit rather than explicit ways. It shows up in the literature class where a different selection of literature is studied, where the poet's transcendent experience is respected. It shows up in a business program which emphasize the work of non-profits or social entrepreneurship, or that teaches that the purpose of business is not just to make money but to serve and that the businessperson's role is to give. It shows up in a history class where a mystic is discussed along with a political ruler. It works out in an international program that goes out not just to the first world, but to places of poverty and need and asks students to listen and learn, and not just solve problems. But it is sometimes explicit as well. It shows up in education programs like ours that speak of the "redemptive service" of the teacher. It makes its way into a prayer before a class session in which we ask to have the locks that shackle our minds broken so that we can understand more deeply. It appears in graduation requirements that ask students to study the Bible both with faith and with scholarly tools. It makes its creative appearance in developing ways to reconcile those battered and lost in conflict and hate. It shows up in the professor and student who understand that their passions for mathematics or microbiology or economics are high and even divine callings. It is discussed in College Hour (chapel) when we explore our callings, what and who God is calling us to be and do. It is deepened in student life and spiritual formation experiences, in leadership sessions, and in service projects. To be sure, we don't always do it as well as we should. We can be closed minded, small in our thinking, and refuse to hear and see what is before us. We can approach our faith and the Bible with closed minds, focused on our own limited positions and interpretations, and forgetful that God might have something more to teach us. Like all academics we can be obtuse and parochial. But at our best we recognize that all knowledge is deeply bound up with faith of one kind or another. It is already integrated in the very way we approach our work. The faith, the lenses we bring shape the horizons before us, and our understanding and what we will learn before we even begin our study. We seek to be articulate about that faith and the knowledge we gain and to let that faith guide our search for understanding. In other forms of higher education it is already integrated as well, with other horizons, other intentions, and other forms of faith. There is no understanding without faith. There is no faith without understanding. We are always following that old medieval formulation of "faith seeking understanding." How then do we do it? We live it in community with each other and God, and invite students to join us in living this faith seeking understanding, and understanding seeking faith. It is a life-long adventure. We seek to bring students into this adventure with us, and then send them out into the world, to schools, to businesses, to churches to let their faith and understanding deepen and to serve as God has called them.  

The title is the phrase that many Christian colleges and universities (see the Council for Christian College and Universities' list of members) use to describe the difference an education in one of our schools makes, compared to secular institutions, and sometimes schools that were at one time more closely identified with Christian faith or with a particular Church or denomination (this group probably includes most of the independent colleges and universities in the US). The classic statement on the integration of faith and learning was made back in the mid-70s by Arthur F. Holmes, Professor of Philosophy at Wheaton College in The Idea of a Christian College—well worth reading. The phrase is not, it has been noted, the most helpful, however. It seems to imply that on the one hand there is learning which is based on reason and experience. And on the other there is faith which is based on revelation, or the Bible, or perhaps spiritual experience and which involves a unique Christian "worldview." And further it might imply that reason and experience are testable, public and rational, while faith is private, subject to authority but not reason, and perhaps irrational if not supra-rational. The goal in this kind of potentially oppositional pairing is to unite the two as much as possible, because (another phrase in the tradition) "all truth is God's truth." Reason works on the data of creation--material or human—it is understood to be a part of the order established by the Creator. Creation is understood to be a reliable order that can be discovered and understood by, for instance, the scientific method, or the social sciences, or through works of creativity and imagination. The works of revelation, the Bible, having the same source, are reliable in the same way as ordered by the Revealer, who is also the Creator. Thus knowledge discoverable in the sciences, social sciences and humanities, for instance, cannot, if true, contradict the knowledge revealed in Scripture (or perhaps by the Spirit, depending on the tradition or particular Christian "worldview"). And so too vice-versa. The goal is to bring these into harmony, by isolating error, more cogent reasoning, and better and more accurate interpretation of the revealed Word. The professor's goal is to integrate what is known and believed into something harmonious and to guide students to a more comprehensive understanding or knowledge true to both reason and faith. There is a certain utility in this process and a bit more than that. It points to a large and inspiring intellectual goal. And it fits with the modern worldview which more often than not describes faith and commitment as subjective and personal, and knowledge are reasonable, testable and public. It gets difficult, or more difficult, when faith is seen as the same yesterday, today and forever, unchanging in content (if not always in verbal formulation) while knowledge is progressive and ever deepening. At its worst, the difficulty of the relation of the two is formulated as a battle between religion and science, a popular notion still heard in the news, though serious historians of science, for example, know that modern science had deep theological roots and that there has more often been stimulation and even assistance between the two than battle. Each age has its fault lines in the relationship between the two--knowledge and faith--if not battle lines. For more than a century and a half, one of those fault lines has been the teaching of evolution which seems to many to contradict the revelation given in the Christian Bible (I have also seen Muslim arguments along the same lines). At the same time, many Christian's have recognized a place for evolutionary understanding, notably today Francis Collins, a confessing, Evangelical Christian who led the project to unravel the "genome" (see his The Language of God: A Scientist Presents Evidence for Belief). Another fault line today, and an interesting one, is neurobiology or "brain science" with it's sometimes claims that all of our thought processes are dictated by chemical patterns etched in the biology of our brains. The scientists have gone one up on the Christian doctrine of predestination. Why do you believe X or Y? Why have have faith in science or religion? Neither is rational or a matter of choice. Your brain made you do it. That may not be entirely fair, but this is a blog…. In the social sciences the updating of old style social materialism (what we believe is the result of our social conditioning) in radical forms of the "social construction of reality" is another we confront in our work in the academy. What is true at one very practical level—we learn to experience the world through the actions, daily practices and institutions of our society—becomes the whole of knowledge. All knowledge is the reflection of these social patterns and power. But it shows up to in popular arenas in various forms. We might hear it as all political persuasions being merely the imposition of power blocks formed within our society, or as "its right for me, perhaps not for you, but we all come from different places so we can't hope to agree on anything except that we need to get along." In this world the "integrationist" has a tougher task. Why integrate when there isn't a truth or Truth to find in either religion/faith or knowledge/reason? Some take comfort in a simple personal commitment. A person might say 'I believe in the Christian religion because I have experienced goodness among other believers,' or 'I have read the Bible and the words of Jesus must be true. They are so complete in their concern for the poor and weak.' It is a powerful argument. But the counter argument is powerful too. 'I do not believe because of the Church that has not followed Jesus,' or '…because of believers I have encountered who justify the evil they do with their belief in God,' or '…because the extent of evil in the world makes me conclude that there cannot be a good God out there somewhere bringing justice to his creation.' And the opposite conclusion might make good sense: 'I trust in the sciences or human knowledge of one kind or another because at least we can find a reasonable and testable way of making claims and science has brought much good to the world (even if some bad people use it for evil).' All of this is to say that the language of "integration" may not get us very far in a "postmodern" world where many believe that knowledge is purely the result of power structures or personal, unanswerable commitments, even in the sciences. All is conditioned either by our social location, our brain chemistry and our personal experiences. So where do we go from here? One response might be to give up on the notion of integration altogether. A responsible thinker teacher might claim that the subjectivist critique of knowledge is for practical purposes true. We should not attempt to rationally explain what we know or believe. We should commit to the faith community in which we have experienced something profoundly good, or experienced God in some way, and let the "fruits" as it were be the witness of that choice—"by their fruits you will know them." A Christian College of this kind will stress the community ethos, the way of Jesus, and the commandment to love one another. Its academic work will be focused on its applicability to solving real problems in a hurting world. This has deep resonance with the Anabaptist/Mennonite tradition of FPU's founding denomination. It is deeply part of the FPU tradition. There is much to say in favor of this response. It is a profound witness to religious faith and to its transforming quality. It is energetic in doing good and seeking out the hurting, exploited and lost. Its weakness is that no community of faith is consistent in its witness. It may be experienced as light and life or the opposite. We can stray from our witness. If this is the only way, it is to risk all on the integrity and "Jesus-character" of the community. And especially a college or university cannot rely on this pursuit alone. We read, study, experiment, reflect and must talk, defend, argue, explain and expand our understanding. We exist to promote and deepen understanding and knowledge. The Anabaptist tradition and we at FPU have not shirked this responsibility, even when our deepest commitment is to the community of faith and its ethos of love and reconciliation. Another response might be to continue with the integrationist understanding, even in the current intellectual climate, but to take the claims of the "truth" of human knowledge and "truth" of revelation seriously and work hard to be better scientists, diligent social scientists and students of the humanities as well as thoughtful, reasonable and more faithfully committed Christians. I respect this attempt immensely. It is a serious attempt to grapple with profound issues that confront our world. I have good friends who work within this understanding of knowledge and faith, and have seen profoundly helpful thinking as a result of it. It has led to contributions by Christians in all of the forms of knowledge in the academy. It requires us to live with an internal tension, with a willingness to suspend or test our supposed certainties. It can make colleges and universities seem like dangerous places to the faithful who would like the certainties of faith taught to their children. It makes communication between Christian Colleges and their supporting churches crucial to both of their ongoing work. (College presidents, provosts and deans often receive letters from pastors and parents asking "what is going on?") It requires mutual trust, support, willingness to speak and listen, and goodwill. To those who work within these two responses of the modern tradition—we all do in some ways—I will continue to believe, read and think with you. They work on some levels and produces practical results that we can share. But I think there is a better way, a way both more ancient and more modern. I will attempt to outline this in a subsequent post.

"Icons" seem to be omnipresent these days. But not the kind of icon I mean here. Icon literally means "image." When the Scriptures say Jesus was (or is) the image of God the father, it uses the language of icon. Jesus is the icon of the father. We see through the image, the icon, to the thing that cannot be seen. All of that may or may not be helpful. What I really want to let everyone know about it the "iconic" images (how's that for redundant?) of Mennonite founders and martyrs in the President's suite at FPU.   This is a unique event. "Graber Designs" in Goshen Indiana, with an art gallery and store called Found in the downtown part of the town, a "thriving artist community" as they say, commissioned these works by a Bulgarian artist and iconographer Ivan Zhabov. They follow the tradition of icon creation of the Orthodox Church, now put to use for the memory of Mennonite martyrs and one of the tradition's principal founders, Menno Simons himself. You can find Graber's explanation of the icons on their website. It is somewhat ironic that an institution sponsored by Mennonite Churches would have anything like this, since the Anabaptist/Mennonite tradition, is, like the Reformed tradition, "aniconic," meaning without images. Our churches are generally bare of art. We hear the Word preached, but do not generally "see" what God would have for us through images. But this is the modern, some would say postmodern, global world. Old boundaries fall and sometimes shatter. Why not have a Bulgarian, Orthodox iconographer share his gifts with another wing of the church? We can learn something from each other. The first image is of the famous episode in the life of Dirk Willems who saved his pursuer as he fled imprisonment for his faith, and was promptly rearrested and then executed. If you follow the links you will see his full story in the "Global Anabaptist Mennonite Encyclopedia Online" where you will also see the famous engraving from the Martyrs' Mirror (1660) of which the icon is a copy. The second image is of Margaretha Sattler about whom not much is known. She was probably a former nun, or Beguine, and is known in Mennonite history as the wife of Michael Sattler, a former monk, who wrote the first Anabaptist confession of faith, The Schleitheim Confession (1527). Both Michael and Margaretha were martyrs. Among all of the Christian communions of the sixteenth century, Anabaptist/Mennonites had the highest proportion of women martyrs. Margaretha represents that women's witness in the sixteenth century, and that has continued throughout Anabaptist and Mennonite history. FPU has a building named in Michael's honor, "Sattler Hall." Finally the third image is of Menno Simons (d. 1561) from about fifty years after his death. Menno not only gave his name to the most prominent Anabaptist movement, group of followers of Christ, or church, but he also in many ways taught those who followed him how to be an ongoing community of faith. He was a former Catholic priest, probably a good pastor even as a priest (though he claims he was not), who was hunted throughout his life as a heretic. He gave to Mennonite discipleship a phrase that for me defines it: "For true evangelical faith is of such a nature that it cannot lie dormant, but manifests itself in all righteousness and works of love; it dies unto the flesh and blood; it destroys all forbidden lusts and desires; it seeks and serves and fears God;  it clothes the naked;  it feeds the hungry; it comforts the sorrowful; it shelters the destitute;  it aids and consoles the sad; it returns good for evil; it serves those that harm it; it prays for those that persecute it;  teaches, admonishes, and reproves with the Word of the Lord; it seeks that which is lost; it binds up that which is wounded; it heals that which is diseased and it saves that which is sound; It has becomes all things to all men." These words are something "iconic" in the popular sense of the word today. Something that stands for, or through which we see what is true and good. When you stop in to see the President of FPU, or one of the rest of us in the suite, take a look at these beautiful Anabaptist icons. And by the way, take a look at our faculty bookshelf—the publications of FPU professors. They are, as you can see, right below the images, Icons, pictures—works of theology, philosophy, history, literature, music, economics, to name a few. Finally I ought to mention how FPU came to receive these pieces. They were the gift of a generous donor, Anne Wiebe. Thank you to Anne, and to all of the many faithful supporters of the work of Fresno Pacific University. Thank you also to Professor Emeritus Paul Toews and to library Director Kevin Enns-Rempel who found these pieces for FPU, and who helped me track down information on them.

I have been doing some final preparation for a church history/historical theology class that I am teaching this semester for Fresno Pacific's Biblical Seminary. It is part of a training sequence for those preparing for ministry in Presbyterian churches (you can read a bit more about it here). Last night I read through several accounts of the formation of the first Presbytery (a body of pastors and lay elders who guide and govern a group of churches) and first Synod (a body of representatives from a number of Presbyteries). "Presbyterian" is sometimes defined by its polity or church government—the representative assemblies of Presbyteries and Synods. Often theological and other disputes get worked out in these formal bodies. As my friend and fellow church member, Doug Lowe has said, Presbyterians don't claim to have invented church government or polity, but sometimes they think they have perfected it. This may be true but a look at the historical record does not show a pattern of perfection. The first Presbytery in the US was founded just over 300 years ago in New York in 1706, and the first Synod not long after that. I read several accounts of the first major conflict that caused a split in the church from 1741-1758. The division was over the first Great Awakening of the early 18^th century. One of the more prominent preachers was a Presbyterian pastor, Gilbert Tennent, a friend and sometimes partner of George Whitfield, an Anglican/Methodist of Calvinist leaning. The historical record of the split is not entirely clear, hence my reading of several accounts. It appears that at the center of the conflict was a theological and spiritual question about the nature of the church, conversion, and how we grow in faith. Tennent was a revivalist who in his early preaching in his famous sermon "The Danger of an Unconverted Ministry" claimed that all pastors should go through a kind of radical conversion that led to a change in their lives and what we might today call lifestyle toward holy living. (By the way this is our FPU theme for the year, see our theme verse Romans 12:1-2—more on this in a future post.) He accused Presbyterian pastors who did not claim this experience as unqualified for the pastorate. Those who he aimed at were, shall we say, not pleased. They were sincere believers who understood that Christian growth to maturity and thus holy living occurred in the long process of life in the Church through fellowship, preaching, study of the Bible and theology, and reception of the sacraments, that is, through the ongoing institutional life of the church. Well it appears that the more traditional side, called the "Old Side," finally, after attempts at mediation, voted Tennent and his Presbytery and fellow revivalists, called the "New Side," out of the Synod. The New Side subsequently formed a new Synod with other like minded pastors and Presbyteries. However, almost immediately the New Side began to feel a bit of guilt over their extreme positions. Tennant modified his preaching, corrected himself and rejected his earlier "censorious Judging...of those we know not."  Moderates began to work for reunion, and the Old Side began to see the benefits and true character of the revivals (if not enthusiastically). As always personalities played a role. The Old and New Sides reunited in 1758 and by this time the majority of the early Presbyterian Church was decidedly New Side, but also committed to the ideals and regular churchly practices of the Old Side. It's a bit complicated, but it seemed to me that there might be a lesson for it for us at FPU. One of the lessons learned by the leaders of the first Presbyterian Synod was that they had to make room for legitimate theological differences and churchly practices. They had to learn to trust each other and recognize in each other the different ways in which God guided and worked within the church, sometimes in the very normal practices of weekly and yearly worship and teaching, and sometimes in outbursts of enthusiasm and radical conversion. Ever since these have been two poles in tension with each other within the Presbyterian church, and perhaps in many American church bodies which have had long standing institutional and cultural patterns and which have also experience revivals whether in the more distant past or more recently. We experience it today in our own region. The Old Side and New Side finally returned to unity; they recognized each other as faithful followers of Christ in a common life and work. We at Fresno Pacific could, if we let ourselves, become a remix of this kind of conflict. If we claimed that one or another theological or churchly commitment was not worthy of membership in the community we might find ourselves impoverished. Fortunately the Mennonite Brethren Confession of Faith, which we use as a kind of touchstone in our hiring process, is both Evangelical and Anabaptist in character, and leaves room for a broader Ecumenical Christian presence. Our Fresno Pacific University Idea welcomes all Christian believers as faculty members and all students, both Christian and those who do not profess Christian faith, to join as we seek to be a unique Christian institution of higher learning. It takes work, humility, patience, goodwill, trust, openness (need I go on?) to make it all work, but the results are a dynamic dialogue within the University and between and among professors and students. It is remarkable to hear Anabaptist theologians discussing Catholic spiritual practices, and Evangelical students learning how Jesus calls us to serve and to be in community with each other. It is remarkable to find at one institution Catholic students becoming better Catholics, Mennonites becoming more Anabaptist in character, and others deepening their ties to Evangelical witness. (Click to see the composition of our student body.) I am profoundly grateful to have been a part of the FPU academic community with its ongoing discovery of how to live as a Christian academic community. I am also grateful that we have learned to make room for each other without suffering the division of the first American Presbytery.

It's July 31, 2013 and we are just finishing the last appointments for the 2013-14 academic year which begins August 1, 2013, tomorrow! It is a long process that begins by departmental faculty forming position announcements for positions that have budgetary approval. These announcements must be approved by their Dean and the Provost and then posted in a variety of places (our website, the Council for Christian Colleges and Universities (CCCU), The Chronicle of Higher Education, and other specialized places). This usually happens in August and September. Often faculty members on the search committee or in the department will call or write colleagues or places with which they have professional affiliation to seek out promising candidates. We actively seek those whom we know might be interested and who will contribute to the university. When letters and applications arrive, the search committee begins to review and winnow them until they are down to a half dozen or less. Then a series of phone or Skype interviews are scheduled, and the committee works until they have at least two applicants who are each invited to a 1-2 day visit to the campus. This visit includes meetings with the search committee and dean, the department, President and Provost, and an open meeting for all to attend. During almost every visit, we ask the candidate to teach a class for a period of time, and if there is not a class available, they demonstrate their teaching by holding a mock class session with we who are already faculty members as students. When all is done—all the visits completed, all the reference calls made—the search committee makes a recommendation to their Dean, who makes a recommendation to the Provost, who consults with the President who makes the final approval to offer an appointment to the faculty candidate. We want to be in agreement on the appointment. Sometimes we cannot get agreement and we have to start over. Normally we begin to finish the process in January or February, but sometimes it takes until July 31, as it has this year. Why do we spend so much time and direct so much of our resources to this work? And what do we look for in faculty candidates? The first question is easy. When we appoint a faculty member as a professor at FPU much of the time we are making a 25, 30, or 35 year decision. We are appointing someone who will join with us in teaching, guiding, and developing our academic programs and students. We are finding a colleague who will deliver our central product (to use business terms), education. It is a great responsibility both for the appointed professor and for the committee recommending the appointment. We want to make a good 25, 30 or 35 year decision. The second question is much more difficult, but I will outline it as simply as I can. The candidate must meet criteria in three broad areas.

1. The candidate must first be a scholar with mind and heart engaged in his or her academic discipline. They must have a terminal degree in their field, usually a doctorate, or be well on their way to earning one. We want to see a potential professor who is not only trained in a particular discipline, but also one who has a breadth of knowledge that enhances their specialized training and brings breadth and depth to the faculty as a whole. In the university of today, this also means that all professors are active scholars, contributing in some way to their professional discipline and ready to bring students, whether undergraduate or graduate, into that work, into collaborative research, writing, or creation of some kind. We look at where they have studied, what they have written or created, who they have studied with. We look for a candidate who is an actively engaged scholar who will add a new dimension to the academic dialog on the campus.  
2. The candidate must also be an excellent teacher and communicator. The scholarship mentioned above serves to enhance teaching. Teaching is an art, and many of the disciplines have norms and patterns of teaching and learning. The professor must be able to communicate with students of all kinds, use multiple ways of presentation and appropriation of academic content and ways of understanding. Today that also means the faculty member might be expected to have experience with online education, or current social media. This is usually no problem for the younger candidates, and is somewhat confusing to search committee members who have been around (like me) for 25, 30 or 35 years. To be a teaching professor one must be dedicated to learning and to assisting students in learning. Enthusiasm for teaching and for their academic specialty is one of the primary qualities of an effective teacher. As our Dean of Education, Dr. Gary Gramenz, explains to me, effective teachers have positive "dispositions" toward their work and students. They seek the success of their students, they love them and the academic work they do.  
3. At Fresno Pacific, all faculty also must be committed Christians who are spiritually mature enough to mentor and guide students. All faculty members must assent to our statement of faith, or our "theological orientation" grounded in Evangelical and Anabaptist ways of being a follower of Christ. But this does not mean that all must be Mennonite or even Evangelical. About 30% of our professors come from Mennonite Brethren, Mennonite or other Anabaptist traditions. Another 40 to 50% worship in Evangelical churches. We have professors of almost every denomination from non-denominational to Baptist, Charismatic, mainline Methodist, Presbyterian, or Lutheran, to Anglican, Episcopalian, Orthodox and Catholic. What holds all of this together? With all of the possible differences a faculty member must know Christ as "Savior and Lord" to use Evangelical language, though they might explain this commitment in the words of another Christian tradition. Every professor at FPU understands that the Holy Bible is the primary authority for faith and life. And every professor is actively a part of some Christian body—a church, a fellowship, a home church. We are not solitary Christians; we are members of the Church universal and of some local congregation. Each professor must work toward the "integration of faith and learning" in their discipline and teaching. That is, their Christian commitment should make difference in how they understand, approach, and teach their discipline—more on this another time.

We also look for a number of other factors: diversity among our faculty (ethnic and gender), international experience, and the ability to teach in interdisciplinary arrangements (part of our Liberal Arts character). Much of this is done early in the process as we actively seek and invite diverse candidates to apply, and make connections in our academic networks and beyond them. Finally we look for someone who shows that they are alive to the work we are doing, to the community we share in, and who will join with us in this "adventure." What this looks like is explained or described in The Fresno Pacific University Idea, our statement of who and what we aspire to be as an academic community. We are a "Christian University," a "Community of Learners," and "Prophetic." This is also perhaps a topic for another time. Sometimes I am amazed when we get it done by July 31, just in time for another year of searching. I have a couple of position announcements for the coming year to review and approve on my desk right now.

Many years ago—in the early 90s—we "globalized" our curriculum. Our required "Civ" series (which combined Biblical studies, Church history and religious experience with the history of civilizations—fun to teach, and lots to grapple with) became a world civilizations course which included both Western and world civilizations. In English we included world readings along with tradition English, and even in theology courses readings from non-western theologians were included. At the same time we began increasing availability of international experiences for students, primarily through cooperative agreements or with other universities. The Council for Christian Colleges and Universities and Brethren Colleges Abroad were our primary sources. More recently our professors have developed our own international trips and programs. We have increasingly sent students on short term trips to India, Israel, Viet Nam, while continuing trips to Europe and Latin America. We have built on faculty experience and expertise. For instance Dr. Brian Schultz lived and studied for years in Israel. He takes students on archeological trips to the Holy Lands. Dr. Ken Friesen with his wife, Fran, led the efforts of Mennonite Central Committee in Viet Nam. And Dr. Darren Duerksen traveled and worked with churches in India. Dr. Karen Cianci, Dean of Natural Sciences, and Dr. Ruth Dahlquist have teamed up to take students for medical mission trips in Honduras. Students travel and experience another culture, and they serve and experience needs and solutions to pressing problems that they would not experience in the US. Each has developed educational travels for students that build on their own deep experience in these countries and cultures. These are experiences that shape or reshape students' lives and outlooks. They add a dimension to their understanding that is difficult to quantify and describe. They open and expand imaginations. To illustrate I asked students who traveled this year to send me something on what they experienced on these trips. Here are some examples of the way they have felt their immediate impact.   From Viet Nam and Cambodia, the humorous and the thoughtful… Andrew bought several fried tarantulas (he seems determined to try everything new) and he willingly shared with any willing taker. We tried them. That's not the royal we -- I really did try one leg of tarantula.                                 ******

As for the smells of Vietnam, they were many -- and each is as intense and integral to this country as small shops and the persistent sellers. There is often the odor of incense, sandalwood seems to be the most prevalent. Incense sticks are found on alters and beneath trees, in small nooks and crannies everywhere. The best part is that it covers some other odors, less desirable and difficult to pinpoint. The smell of meat cooking is even more noticeable. Since so much of life is on the sidewalk, all those cooking aromas permeate the cities. There are the sweet smells of tropical fruit, of coconut, and of jasmine. But all of it is mixed with the heavy concentration of humid tropical air and of my own sweat

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The following day, our group went to the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum (S21). This museum preserves the acts of torture committed by the Khmer Rouge regime during their rise to power. It was yet another reminder of the atrocities humans are capable of committing. The name means "poisonous trees" and over the course of its operation, over 20,000 people were killed. There were only seven survivors, two of which we got to meet today while at the museum. It is incredible that these two men have been able to overcome the bitter memories of this place so that they can meet the people who come and share their testimony (through their books). Following the museum, we went on another 5.5 hour bus ride to the city of Siem Reap, our final destination. Here we will spend our last two days visiting the Ankor Wat, the largest temple ever built.

From the trip to Honduras, participating as medical missionaries.

I learned so many things medically and spiritually. My knowledge for how to treat people, and how to care for their problems has grown tremendously. Doing something as simple as taking blood pressure, or giving people medication to make the parasites leave their bodies was very impacting. I gained a confidence from this trip, that taught me that I am capable of helping others in the medical field if I can continue to study hard and maintain a personality that is open to learning. Having a hands-on experience with the doctor was incredible. I was able to visibly gain an understanding of the difference between an infected ear and a regular ear. I was able to listen to the sound of a healthy heart beat, and the sound of a heart murmur. I was able to learn how to immediately treat people with respiratory issues. Being able to help the many kids with asthma was a huge blessing to experience. I was able to participate in taking a cyst off of an individual's eye, as well as an overgrown skin tag off of another individual's lower back region. It seemed painless to remove those objects from the two people in the process, yet it resulted in removing so much pain and irritation once the procedure was done. Being able to interact with each patient in Spanish was an awesome opportunity. I was enlightened to interact with others, and being able to do it in a culture that I am not used to. I loved getting to hear the people's comments on their thankfulness for what we were doing. I loved that I had opportunities to hear people's problems and issues with their bodies that they had, when those people do not get a chance to do that very often. I loved being a part of a solution to a problem that the people of Honduras continually have to deal with, which is a lack of good medical care. Even though we only got to help them for 2 weeks of their lives, it was amazing to be able to show the people a taste of what good health care actually is.                                 ******

Once we arrived at our first brigade, the people in Honduras coming to the brigade were filled with joy when they saw the medicine coming. It amazed me and made me feel good that the people were so thankful for over the counter medicine that we sometimes take for granted. It was also a blessing to interact with the kids and put smiles on their faces. The communities were very poor which made me reflect on my early childhood when I was in Mexico for a couple months. When I saw the kids without shoes, it made me remember of the time when I didn't have any. I just wanted to help those kids out so much but in order to that and be able to make a huge impact on poor communities I have to achieve my goals (become a doctor).

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I would really like to return to Honduras, but I also feel called to do more acts of service just here in Fresno. I'm so thankful for the opportunity that Fresno Pacific gave me to gain this experience because my perspective on my life and other countries has been immensely widened.

There were many more, but you have a feel for it. These are the enriching experiences we hope for our students. And we plan, arrange, schedule and find funds to that it can happen. Our professors are particularly gifted, I think, and committed to this kind of work, which takes energy when an academic year has just ended. But is rewarding and enriching for students far beyond what we can predict.

 

   

The title of this entry will remind readers of a certain age of a popular sitcom that played around the theme of an alien, a Martian, living with a middle-class American family. Mystics in our world are something like this. We are generally all for "spirituality," but the mystic's witness to an immediate experience with God is baffling, challenging, and somehow compelling. It is baffling, of course, because we cannot understand God himself very well, nor the person who claims to have had some kind of intimate contact with God. It is challenging because mystics seem to speak with a special authority, and it might seem to contradict other religious authorities. It is compelling because, well, if someone witnessed to an immediate sense of touch, or union with God, might we not want to know about it? God too often seems to be the silent partner in a dialog of prayer. Often we can go to the Middle Ages for examples of Christian experience. It is in some ways a laboratory of Christian practice and thought. In fourteenth-century England, the age of the Hundred Years War, the Black Death, Geoffrey Chaucer, John Wycliffe, Piers Plowman and Sir Gawain and the Green Knight there were four individual mystics that are often on course reading lists, and are popular with readers and practitioners of spiritual disciplines. Richard Rolle is very personal and almost chatty; he has personal appeal. The Cloud of Unknowing (author also unknown) is deeply philosophically and learned. Julian of Norwich is one of the great female mystics of the age whose striking images and experience are both disturbing and profound. All of these are read with enthusiasm. But my favorite fourteenth century mystic is Walter Hilton, the more down to earth, the teacher, the less read I think, the fourth of the group. Hilton was a priest in the north of England near York, a canon who lived a regular (monastic) life, but served in a parish and so taught and worked among the people. In The Ladder of Perfection he writes to a "sister," presumably a nun, who has questions about spiritual and mystical experience. It is the great gift of Hilton to us to describe the spiritual practice of contemplatives, how to discern between true and counterfeit spiritual experience, the relation of this experience to theological teaching like the necessity of grace given to commune with God, and the grace given to regenerate or sanctify the soul. He is methodical, and insightful. He notes types of experiences and compares them to other types; he points to methods of self discipline, meditation, contemplation, and discernment of the causes and effects of sin and grace in us. A couple of unique teachings anchor us. First he offers counsel on living what he calls the "mixed life" (especially in a brief tract of this title). The mixed life is that of those called to an active life in the world of family, friends, service, business or school, who yet have a desire for deeper communion with God. He counsels that we must fulfill our obligations to our world of commitments and human struggles and joys, and offers ways to practice a life of prayer, meditation, and even contemplation (you will have to read him for these distinctions). Second he explains that mystical experience must be grounded in at least two ways. Because God is good and holy we must make ourselves ready for his touch by moral and intellectual discipline; we must incline to the good, and practice disciplines that encourage the growth in us of humility, justice and righteousness, compassion for others, moderation, and love. This moral discipline goes along with intellectual disciplines that help raise the mind to the realms of God where our intellectual categories and our ability to describe what is true and good are transcended. Here we face the risk of losing our way theologically, or at least our intellectual balance. He also counsels that our spiritual practice must not be separated from the church, regular worship and the reading of Scripture. The God we are individually to seek in the "spiritual" realms is also the God who has called us to be a part the Church. He has given us the body of Christ in which to worship, to hear the word preached, to receive the sacraments through which grace is renewed in us. In and through the offices of the church we are instructed and learn charity towards our sisters and brothers. I suppose it is this very practical and down-to-earth quality that I am drawn to in Hilton. He gives guidance, offers balance, and reminds us that whatever gifts we are given they are in and for his body, his people, the Church. He reminds me that the goal is to know and offer the love of God to others, and that this is not an easy task or the result of some splashy experience. He tells us that God is waiting, but that he is oftentimes hidden behind the many things we put in his way. He reminds us that our normal Christian experience is the path of our seeking. And yet in this down-to-earth life, God is waiting for us in silence. "For prayer is nothing but a desire of the heart rising into God by its withdrawal from all earthly thoughts; and so it is compared to a fire, which of its own nature leaves the lowness of the earth and always goes up into the air. Just so, when desire in prayer has been touched and set alight by the spiritual fire which is God, it keeps rising naturally to him from whence it came." Walter Hilton, The Scale of Perfection, J.P.H. Clark and R. Dorward, trans. Classics of Western Spirituality (NY: Paulist, 1991) I, 27.