A Glimpse of the Kingdom in Academia: Academic Formation as Radical Discipleship

A Glimpse of the Kingdom

in Academia

Academic Formation

as Radical Discipleship

Irene Alexander

With a foreword by Charles Ringma

A GLIMPSE OF THE KINGDOM IN ACADEMIA

Academic Formation as Radical Discipleship

New Monastic Library: Resources for Radical Discipleship 11

Copyright © 2013 Irene Alexander. All rights reserved. Except for brief quotations in critical publications or reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without prior written permission from the publisher. Write: Permissions, Wipf and Stock Publishers, 199 W. 8th Ave., Suite 3, Eugene, OR 97401.

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isbn 13: 978-1-61097-245-1

eisbn 13: 978-1-62189-539-8

Cataloging-in-Publication data:

Alexander, Irene.

A glimpse of the kingdom in academia : academic formation as radical discipleship / Irene Alexander.

xiv +

188

p. ;

23

cm. —Includes bibliographical references and indexes.

isbn

13

:

978

-

1

-

61097

-

245

-

1

New Monastic Library: Resources for Radical Discipleship

11

1

. Universities and colleges—Religion.

2

. Theology—Study and teaching (Higher). I. Ringma, Charles. II. Series. III. Title.

BV1610 .A34

2013

Manufactured in the U.S.A.

RSV Bible is used unless stated otherwise

(Also used NIV, NASB, KJV, The Message)

To all who seek to live the kingdom in their profession,

learning to walk in the way of Jesus.

FOREWORD

Contrary to popular and uninformed opinions about the older and continuing forms of monasticism, which see monastics as persons who have escaped from the real world and all its problems and challenges, a more correct understanding of monasticism is that monks more deeply sought the presence of God in their personal lives and their communities in order to be a radical and transformative presence in the world. They withdrew from dominant cultural configurations to be with God and to learn the ways of worship, prayer, meditation, community, work, and service in order to be signposts of what a new world, waiting to be born, could look like. As such, they were the harbingers of a new world order reflecting God’s kingdom ways embodied in Christ and wildly made present through the life-giving and unbound Spirit of God.

In the long history of the Christian church, the second most endurable institution besides the parish church has been monastic communities. These communities have been not only the schools of prayer and Christian formation in the life and ways of Jesus, but they have also been a significant force in being a blessing to the parish church and its need for pastors and leaders, a force in the history of learning and education, a key player in the evangelization of Europe in the period 600–1100 A.D., a factor in the world of art and creativity, and an economic force in the societies of that time. We may safely say that these communities instead of being "in flight from the world," were an expression of a world-formative Christianity. Love of God was to come to expression in love of neighbor. And that involved shaping the world in which the neighbor was to live.

By way of only one small example, the Monastic communities of St. Basil (329–379 A.D.) were an expression of a way of life that formed people in the way of Christ and sought to renew and bless both the church and the needy in society. These communities moved close to city centers. They saw themselves as leaven for the parish church and as communities open to the world. They not only practiced crafts and agriculture to sustain their communities, but established orphanages, hospitals, workshops for the poor, and practiced hospitality to the stranger. They not only believed that love of God demands love of neighbor, but that through love of neighbor one can also come to the love of God. Prayer and praxis, therefore, belonged together.

Through critical times, societal collapse, and economic hardship, monastic communities sought to be places of hope, prayer, formation, education, and service. These communities knew the spirituality of the desert—the hard places—and therefore were able to sustain their way of life and their faith even when the world around them was in crisis. And key to this was that their spiritual quest for a deeper union with God was the way for a deeper penetration into the woundedness of the world.

With the rise of the new monasticism amongst Protestants and Evangelicals in the beginning of the twenty-first century there has begun to blossom a vision of the need for an alternative but complementary way of being a Christian in our contemporary ecclesiastical landscape and our post-Christendom world. A secular and deeply troubled Western world with its economic determinism, its lack of soul, its loss of community, its disregard for our fragile planet and its loss of the biblical meta-narrative to give over-all shape to a destiny marked by grace and healing, urgently needs re-enchantment. And a Western church, which in the words of the missiologist, Lesslie Newbigin, is a most culturally captive church, urgently needs renewal. In this challenging setting, the new monasticism overturning the over-reaction of the Reformers in their rejection of the Monastic vision, is seeking both to learn from the strengths and weaknesses of the older and enduring Monastic tradition, while at the same time forging new ways of life together, formation, societal critique, blessing the church and enacting a missional vision that seeks to impact all of life.

While the emphasis of the new monasticism so far (and these are very early days in this creative movement) has been on the formation of communities serving the poor, attempts to link intentional communities to churches undergoing spiritual and missional renewal, strategies to re-awaken Christian discipleship, programs to deepen Christian formation and the encouragement of a life-sustaining spirituality in the framework of a sacramental vision of life, clearly more experimental work needs to be done if the new monasticism is to reflect the inspirational nature of the older Monastic tradition.

It is at this point that Irene Alexander’s book is one pointer to this fuller future. Here the focus is not on the formation of a community to serve in a poor neighborhood, but the building of community and a way of life in the way of Jesus within a tertiary educational setting. This reflects the vision that the way of Jesus—a life lived in the grace of Christ through the power of the Spirit and seeking to be small lights of the Great Light, Jesus Christ, who has come into the world to enlighten every human being—is a way of life that needs to permeate all of our societal structures, including the educational, the economic, and the political.

This challenging story is not a set of ideas of what is possible, but a thoughtful and insightful reflection on what was done in the School of Social Sciences of a Brisbane tertiary institution. In these pages you will find the struggle regarding how to create an alternate way of doing formation and education within a present day educational setting. In these pages you will find key practices of what it means to be a servant leader, how to educate in ways that are transformational and life-giving, how to build community within a class-room setting, how to deal with power differentials between faculty and students, how to express a kenotic or self-giving and self-emptying spirituality, how to model and not only teach, how to build on what students already know and then move them forward and how to help them deal with their shadow side and their woundedness and move them into the healing grace of Christ.

The book, however, is not simply a how-to book. It is also a book that will move you into a more profound way of reading and entering into the Gospel story. It is a book marked by a theology of the Kingdom or Reign of God and a holistic vision of God’s redemptive and healing purposes for our world. It is a book also shaped by the newer Liberation and Feminist theologies. Moreover, it is a book marked by a profound spirituality. Furthermore, this book reflects the thoughtful integration of psychology and sociology with a theological vision. And finally, in this book you will meet a person who has chosen to be open and vulnerable in what she writes. Maybe this too is something of the way of Jesus

It is my hope that this book will be a precursor of what is yet to come. That it will point the way for others to take the shape of their life in Christ into the public sphere. That the people who know Christ in the private places of prayer and meditation and in the sphere of the faith community will take the challenging figure of the Man from Galilee into their places of work. That others in community development, the world of medicine, the sphere of business, the challenging arena of politics, the necessary field of food production and the world of the arts, will forge ways of living the heartbeat of the Reign of God in the public sphere. This is so that God may be glorified and the bruised fabric of our present social order may be renewed and the church may rediscover its servant nature in following the servant-king, Christ, into the world.

Charles Ringma,

Emeritus Professor, Regent College, Vancouver, Canada

Research Professor, Asian Theological Seminary, Manila, Philippines

Honourary PhD Supervisor, School of History, Philosophy, Religion and Classics, The University of Queensland, Brisbane, Australia

acknowledgments

I have told this narrative from my own perspective—but of course many people have been part of the story. You will hear some of their voices, but mostly it is my voice, capturing my perspective of a deep and multifaceted journey. I have not tried to write a history, but I do want to acknowledge the many people who together created a place where we could experiment and learn and seek God’s kingdom.

To the CHC staff who were there at the beginning of my involvement, who shared a dream of creating Christian university: Brian Millis, Julian Jenkins, Denis O’Hara, Anne Fry, Bob Pearson, Darren Lloyd, Jacqueline Hawkins, Patty Overend, and Rob Herschell, my heartfelt thanks.

The story related in this book is that of the School of Social Sciences, particularly the counseling courses, and I have been very conscious of us as a team together from the early days until the time I stepped out of the dean’s role: John Meteyard, David Pohlmann, and Esther Diplock, companions on the way.

With thanks to the sessional lecturers and school administrative staff who gave of themselves to create a rich and variegated learning context: Chris Brown, Peter Janetzki, Doug Taylor, Denis O’Hara, Kathleen Mooney, Don Smith, Paul Jensen, Betti Chappelle, Liz Stevens, Charles Ringma, Phil Henry, Loris Henry, Zena Richards, Ann Crawford, Heather Peall, Lai Hoong Chong, Robyn Menzies, Keiron Brown, Toni Neal, Fiona O’Hara, Ruth Thorne, Jennifer Wallis, Tim Wallis, Penny Box, Catherine McIntyre, Alex Averi, Eija Bunch, Diane Perrin, Deanna Pitchford, Ross Farley, Steve Forward, William Diplock, Neil Roberts, Melissa Branjerdporn, Brett Smith, Ruth Gilmore, Kirsty Andersen, Di Townsend, Judy Morgan, Andrew Neumann, Richard Cook, James Arkwright, Debbie Garson, Dawn Courtman, Vicky Taylor, Keith Cameron-Smith, Jane Hutton, Paul Stevens, Di Spediacci, Anne Simpson, Doug Sotheren.

To the many students who have risked much by enrolling in our courses, giving yourselves to the roller-coaster journey of transformation, trusting a God who is more than any of us can imagine, but who shows himself/herself in the face of Jesus Christ. Thank you for sharing the journey. And thanks especially to those who have allowed me to quote you. (Most names are real—and used with permission. A few preferred to remain anonymous.)

My fellow retreat-writers: Terry Gatfield, Chris Brown, and Charles Ringma. Charles, without you this book would not have been begun, nor would it have been completed. Chris, without you our counseling courses would never have become what they are. I am deeply grateful.

one

The Beginnings of a Christian University—A Personal Journey

Beginnings

Every story is a personal story. But it is also a communal story. Who I am is a result of my family, my country, my time in history, and how I live my life is an expression of that shared experience, as well as an expression of the group with whom I presently share my life. To tell the story of our fledging School of Social Sciences is to tell other people’s stories as well, albeit through my eyes. The task of telling the whole objective story is impossible, so I will talk from a number of perspectives. But to begin I will simply tell my own journey as a gateway into the bigger picture.

I came to Christian Heritage College having been in Youth With A Mission (YWAM) for twelve years, and then working in secular universities for five years. The lessons of the YWAM years were deep, and gave me an alternative way of being, a way of seeing that I could refer back to as I played my part in creating a Christian university. Our training schools in YWAM had several important characteristics—we lived together in community, money was never the bottom line, we tried to hear and obey God’s voice before (and above) any earthly regulations or demands, we attempted to live what the Bible said: to seek first the kingdom, trusting that anything else we needed would be given by God. No person was higher up the ladder than anyone else; we were all in this together, sharing what we had in common, trying to speak the truth in love, and taking the gospel to all the world, whatever the cost. A career path was irrelevant, retirement funds unthought of, savings and income shared. The goal of reaching all the world with the good news of Jesus was worth every sacrifice, and personal honesty and growth were normal parts of everyday relationships.

Recognizing that the Great Commission also meant to disciple the nations, to influence the nations in the way of Jesus, I understood that our society needs tertiary training that brings together biblical understanding and disciplinary-specific knowledge. Being part of a secular university for a few years convinced me that it was not a good fit for me—how could I help students live in kingdom ways if the institution of which we were a part did not reflect the kingdom? Creating a Christian university that sought in its vision, its raison d’etre, to create relationships and systems, policies and practices, classroom teaching and campus life that aligned with the kingdom would be much more effective in modeling to students how they may live in the kingdom, both at university and in the world of their professional practice. (An understanding of the kingdom or reign of God is explored in chapter 2).

We started by thinking in terms of worldview. Each subject that was taught was reassessed in terms of Christian worldview. Psychology 101—how would this be taught from a Christian perspective? I developed a book of readings that helped students with ideas that might clash with their faith. I taught them about looking at the assumptions underlying the research and facts of the textbooks—the worldview that was secular, evolution-based, and written by authors who sought to explain all findings separate from the existence of God. I knew how my own Psychology 101 experience had brought my faith into question, and I spoke with students at other universities who were losing their faith as they studied the social sciences. I met one young woman who was studying psychology at a secular university, who told me she still believed in God in her heart, but did not believe in him in her head anymore. I determined I would journey with our students in a way that allowed them to stay whole—heart and mind—by helping them critique the worldview of their disciplines, by helping them sift the explanations and teachings they were reading.

Journeying

At first, we tended to think of worldview as the key to everything and of our Christian Worldview subject as core to the whole program. Initially, we thought of worldview in a narrow way. What did the Bible teach us about truth, morality, and the nature of human beings? Truth was what the Bible said plus what research revealed (as long as it did not oppose what the Bible taught). Morality was what the Bible told us was right and wrong. The nature of human beings? Again, what the Bible taught and what research showed, subject to the sieve of the Scriptures. As we wrestled with these concepts, read more widely, discussed ideas, taught students of varying persuasions, and listened to wise advisors, we began to broaden our thinking. We accepted the multiplicity of biblical interpretations, and began to see the depth of wisdom of thinkers and researchers who did not necessarily call themselves Christian. We became more willing to hold our own interpretations with one hand, while listening honestly to other ideas, without prejudice. We began to talk in terms of Christian worldviews instead of worldview, in the singular. Concurrently our own relationships with God and each other were deepening, and we tried to listen to the Spirit of God, and not just good, Christian books. We prayed together, sought to be honest with each other in our different understandings, to listen to what the Spirit might be saying to the group through each person’s honest attentiveness to God.

My own doctorate and my journey with my colleagues were leading me to a position that Perry would call contextual relativism.

¹

Oh yes, absolute truth exists, but our finite minds are only grasping a part of it, and a distorted view at that. It was rather disconcerting to find that the story of the blind men and the elephant was changing its meaning for me. I had never liked that story—that each blind person, feeling a particular part of the elephant, reported that the elephant was like a tree-trunk, a wall, a rope, a sheet, depending on whether he felt the elephant’s legs, side, trunk or ear. Of course, the moral of the story was that they were all right. I wanted there to be only one right—the truth that Christians believed. I was coming to a place of admitting that I, too, was just one blind person. The great irony of all this was that our College was linked to a Pentecostal denomination, one whose theology did not allow for this broadening worldview that many of us were developing.

I remember a particular milestone that came through a visiting American scholar. Truth is always embodied, he said, always in relationship. How could that be, thought I, clinging to the idea of absolute, propositional truth. Jesus named himself as truth—a person, not an idea. The speaker took another step: If true doctrine is taught legalistically, and if right behavior in response to that doctrine is demanded without love, that doctrine will not be received as true—it is no longer truth. I remember being shocked, and yet persuaded. Truth in love, Paul said. Truth in love, Jesus lived, embodied, the Word become flesh. Truth changed its meaning for me. What we meant by absolute truth shifted.

Our teaching began to shift, also. It was not just about content and right beliefs. It was also about practices, teaching methods, relationships. Our assessments included more personal reflections, our classrooms more interactive methods and more discussion. We made more room for students to express different opinions, and accepted that their journeys would take time and experience. We began to see the university experience as a time of formation—rather than only teaching knowledge.

Meantime, I tried to preserve the good of what I had learned in my YWAM years and relationships. I determined that I would be honest and transparent with students, embodying what I had learned in my YWAM years of openness and brokenness—the willingness to be seen as one of God’s children at the foot of the cross, on my own journey, but subject to life’s difficulties and crises. My own marriage was shaken by the changes in my beliefs, and I was aware that many counseling students, in particular, experience a similar shake up of their relationships as they change and as they learn more about themselves and relationships. I sought to sustain the safety of the classroom, while being honest about relevant aspects of my own journey, enabling students to apply what they were learning to their real-life circumstances without shame or distress. Many students are attracted to the social sciences, to counseling and psychology, in particular, because of their own life questions. Students’ assignments frequently contained real-life applications, and sometimes stories of great pain. Being able to acknowledge the presence of the healing God in the classroom and in teaching had a profound impact.

Each subject became not just a Christian worldview version of its secular counterpart. The Christian perspective became not just a sentence tacked on to the requirements of an assignment, requiring a few Bible verses to fulfill the lecturer’s expectation. Instead, we engaged with how this subject might look if it grew out of a lived understanding of the Scriptures. We tried to understand how writers, both Christian and non-Christian, engaged with the deeper questions of life. We looked for the good in secular practices, rather than discarding them because they were not Christian. We took our learning and ideas to conferences, adapting the language to talking about spirituality, rather than using Christian jargon. We found that others accepted us and appreciated what we contributed, and we likewise listened to them and let their ideas and