Articles

Articles

Orienting

Our Lives:

The

Importance

of a Liberal Education for Pentecostals in the

Twenty

First

Century1

Michael Palmer

Not long

ago, C-SPAN2’s Book

T.V. channel broadcast a discussion of a new translation of Homer’s

Odyssey.

Four

scholars, including

the transla- tor, talked with each

other and

responded

to callers. One

caller,

who identi- fied herself as a “tongues-talking” Christian from

Mississippi, groused

that too much time and

money

is wasted

perpetuating

the Greek and Latin clas- sics,

whereas more

pressing

issues are evident all around us. The scholars responded briefly,

but their remarks were

fragmentary,

hinted of condescen- sion,

and

generally

failed to discern the caller’s

underlying

concern about what is worthy of human endeavor. It would be convenient for all of us if the caller

happened

to be a hypocrite, a person

incapable

of comprehending an answer,

or simply a kook. For in that event we could

easily justify

dismiss- ing

her out of hand. But she was none of these

things

and, in truth, she speaks

for

many

Pentecostals. Her concern

may

be framed as a

question: Why

do texts and subjects that have no readily discernible

application

to the church or to issues of contemporary life continue to receive attention

among intellectuals and in institutions of

higher

education? More

generally,

the question

is whether the processes and assumptions that underlie the study of these texts and

subjects-processes

and assumptions

traditionally

subsumed under the label ‘liberal education’-have

any prospect

of playing a decisive role in the lives of Pentecostals as they cross the threshold into the twenty- first

century.

I intend to answer this

question affirmatively.

Salient Features

of Liberal Education

Precisely demarcating

the essential features of a liberal

(or liberating)

education is not an inconsiderable

task, partly

because of the various intel- lectual

endeavors,

forms of

training,

and

programs

of

preparation

with .

1 An earlier version of this essay was presented on March 9, 2001, as a plenary address at the 30th annual meeting of the Society for Pentecostal Theology in Tulsa, Oklahoma.

197

1

which it is often confused, and

partly

because the theme itself is elusive. Thus,

to be educated

liberally

is not identical to engaging in scholarship. The former has more to do with a

process

someone

might undergo;

the latter identifies a certain kind of intellectual

activity engaged

in by learned

people. Liberal education also bears no essential connection with the

array

of pro- fessional and vocational

programs-education, marketing, journalism,

and computer science,

to name

only

a few-that have

proliferated

in colleges and universities

during

recent decades. Professional and vocational

pro- grams exemplify

what John

Henry

Newman called the usefiil

(or instrumen- tal) arts, regimens

of

study designed

to impart specific skills and forms of knowledge applicable

to certain roles or career

paths.2

Liberal

education, by contrast,

has less to do with

preparation

for

specific

roles or careers than with

developing

certain

capacities,

not the least of which are those

necessary for

self-understanding

and for

assuming responsibility

within the

larger community.3

Newman himself described it this

way:

“This

process

of train- ing, by

which the intellect, instead of

being

formed or sacrificed to some particular

or accidental

purpose,

some

specific

trade or profession, or study or science, is disciplined for its own sake, for the perception of its own

prop- er object, and for its own

highest culture,

is called Liberal Education.”4

It is a well-known fact that what we today call liberal arts educational institutions

originated

in

Europe during

the

High

Middle

Ages,

and that what we call the liberal arts referred then to two

groups

of academic disci- plines,

one of three

arts,

another of four arts. The threefold

group (which medieval writers called the

trivium)

were communication arts:

grammar, rhetoric,

and

logic.

The fourfold division

(the quadrivium)

consisted of “mathematical” or, as we would describe them,

nonliterary

arts:

geometry,

2 John Henry Newman, The Idea of a U>7iversity (Notre Dame, IN.: University of Notre Dame Press, 1982), Discourse VII, “Knowledge Viewed in Relation to Professional Skill,” I 14-135. 3 For an illuminating treatment of this line of reasoning, see Henry G. Bugbee, Jr., “Education and the Style of our Lives,” Profiles 6:4, University of Montana (May 1974), 4-5. Arthur Holmes makes a similar point: “Liberal learning therefore takes the long-range view and con- centrates on what shapes a person’s understanding and values rather than on what he can use in one or two of the roles he might later play.” The Idea of a Christian College, rev. ed. (Grand Rapids, MI.: William changing

B. Eerdmans, 1975), 29.

4 Newman, Idea of a University,115. To those who insist that liberal education must have some instrumental value, Newman offered this

reply:

“If then a

practical

end must be

assigned

to a University course, I say it is that of training good members of society. Its art is the art of social life, and its end is fitness for the world. It neither confines its view to particular professions on the one hand, nor creates heroes or inspires genius on the other” ( 134).

198

2

arithmetic, music,

and

astronomy.5

But this

specific

curriculum was

aug- mented almost from the outset. The

empirical

sciences

(in

their formative stages)

and

theology provided

the

subject

matter for rational

inquiry

in the High

Middle

Ages.

The Renaissance saw the curriculum broadened to include the

study

of classical

languages (Greek

and

Latin)

and classical lit- erature

(drama, poetry, philosophy). By the beginning

of the twentieth cen- tury

the curriculum

ranged

across a broad

spectrum

of disciplines from the humanities to the natural and social sciences.

Today,

a

century later,

it is more cross

disciplinary

and cross cultural than ever before. The historical trend to expand and revise the liberal arts does not prove that the curriculum is altogether

arbitrary. (Certain

texts and materials do in fact lend themselves more

readily, fully,

and

enduringly

to the educative

process.)

But it does show that the curriculum itself, the specific subject

matter,

if you will, does not essentially define liberal education.

As a first

approximation

to providing a positive account of liberal edu- cation,

I take

my cue from Newman’s description

cited earlier: He spoke of a process of

training, by

which the intellect is disciplined for its own sake and for the

perception

of its own

proper object.

What are the essential fea- tures of an educative

process

that thus disciplines the intellect?

To

begin

with, liberal education involves

awakening

to the

living sig- nificance of the

seemingly

dead

past.6

The

general

semanticist Alfred

5 Although the seven liberal arts (composed of the trivium and guadrivium) formed the core of university education in the High Middle Ages, the specific groupings originated much earli- er with Martianus Capella, a fourth-century contemporary of and a fellow North African. Martianus introduced the seven arts (and the distinctive threefold-fourfold Augustine

in a treatise with the curious

groupings)

title, The Marriage of Philology and Mercury. By the time he ulated his

stip-

specific curriculum, Christians were already studying grammar, rhetoric, and classi- cal

literature, following the Roman and curriculum. The practice was controversial: Tertullian

objected strenuously

to the system

adoption of classical culture. But others, including Jerome, Ambrose, and Augustine, saw value in classical culture and classical education. Augustine,

who was highly critical of some of the classical tradition, Christians to adopt the Roman system of education and the use of aspects classical literature for urged pragmatic rea- sons : to maintain a literate church. To that end he advocated the preparation of compendia of the liberal arts, which took the form of summaries of those aspects of classical philosophy and literature deemed to be consistent with Christian doctrine. For a fuller treatment of these and

related issues, see Norman F. Cantor, The Civilization of the Middle Ages (New York: Harper Collins, 1993), 66, 67, 80-84. Also see Arthur F. Holmes, Building The Christian Academy (Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 2001 ).

6 What I here call awakening to the past has certain affinities with Gabriel Marcel’s use of the term “recollection.” See “On the

trans.

Ontological Mystery,” in The Philosophy of Existentialism,

Manya Harari (New York: Citadel Press, 1956; reprint, Carol Publishing Group, 1995), 9-46, esp. 23-25. Also, see Marcel’s treatment of the French word reconnaissance and its cog- nate reconnaitre in “Philosophy As I See It,” in The Owl of Minerva:

199

3

deliberate

judgment.

To say, therefore, that liberal education entails

tutelage in choice means that liberal education has to do

fundamentally

with devel- oping

in individuals the capacity for deliberate judgment.9

But the exercise of deliberate

judgment

can

hardly

be realized

apart from

enlivening

the

imagination.

Practical

people-people disposed

to action directed toward immediate or

tangible

results-sometimes criticize liberal

learning

on the grounds that it yields no definite answers. In a certain narrow sense the criticism is accurate. The caller who asked the scholars on C-SPAN2’s Book T.V,

“Why,

in the face of so

many pressing issues,

we should continue to

study

classical literature?” made a valid

assumption. Studying

Homer’s

Odyssey

is unlikely to have a direct

bearing

on even a sin- gle important contemporary

social issue. In that sense-and here is the crit- icism-it is useless. The same can be said for the

study

of

any particular piece

of literature, drama,

philosophy, poetry,

or history. But the assumption on which the criticism rests

quite

misses the

larger point. Studying

these works does not aim to provide specific solutions to

practical problems.

On the contrary, it aims to enliven the imagination, and this means that the chief value of studying them lies with their

capacity

to provoke thought and pres- ent familiar

things

in unfamiliar

ways.10

Bertrand Russell made this

point when he said that the value of philosophy lies less in its

ability

to provide definite answers than in the

uncertainty

it engenders:

The man who has no tincture of philosophy goes through life in the prejudices derived from common sense, from the habitual beliefs imprisoned of his age or nation, and from convictions which have

grown up

in his mind without the cooperation or consent of his deliberate reason…

unable to tell us with certainty what is the true answer to the doubts which it raises, is able to suggest many possibilities which Philosophy though

enlarge our thoughts and free them from the tyranny of custom.l I

Russell’s

point

about

philosophy

holds

equally

for literature,

poetry, history, and

any

of the other

subjects

of inquiry ordinarily associated with the liber- al arts.

They

all enliven the imagination and thereby militate

against

various

9 See my “Elements of a Christian Worldview,” in Elements of a Christian Worldview, ed. and comp.

Michael D. Palmer (Springfield, MS: Logion Press, 1998), 19-78, esp. 24-27. 10 Edward De Bono uses the expression “lateral thinking” to describe the

in unfamiliar “Lateral he “seeks

process of looking at familiar things

ways. thinking,” says,

to get away from the

pat- terns that are leading one in a definite direction and to move sideways by reforming the

pat- terns.” New Think (New York: Avon, 1971 ), 15.

11 Bertrand Russell, The Problems of Philosophy (New York: Oxford University Press, 1969), 156, 157.

201

4

Korzybski

once described humankind as “a time-binding class of life His description

evokes an intriguing image of what it means to live humanly. We do not so much build

upon

the

past

as gather it together and pull it forward to our own

time;

we do not so much stand on the shoulders of our predeces- sors as assimilate their contributions and treat them as if they were our own. Korzybski

does not

say so,

but

surely

much of this

time-binding activity, perhaps

most of it, is unintentional. It goes on day in and

day out,

but the individual for the most

part does not notice (much

less comprehend) what is being

thus

gathered

and bound

together

to make a self. Liberal education explicitly

turns attention to the

time-binding process

and

explores

the tem- poral

strands from our cultural and intellectual

heritage

that we have unwit- tingly gathered together

to form ourselves.

Through

the

study

of the

past- whether in the works of philosophers, church fathers,

poets, playwrights,

or novelists-liberal education

helps

us remember who we are.

Liberal education is also tutelage in choice. This becomes evident if we consider the

way people commonly acquire

the core beliefs and

practices that

comprise

their worldview.

Children,

for instance, receive their world- view

uncritically

as an inheritance. Their core

beliefs, priorities,

and ideals show

up

in their

speech, actions,

and social

arrangements,

but

they

lack appreciation

of either their

origins

or implications. Possessing them in this sense

(uncritically,

as an inheritance) is not

yet

to have chosen them and is thus not

yet

to own them

fully.

Mature

ownership requires

the exercise of choice. But

choosing,

in the

respect

intended

here,

does not mean

merely that one selects one set of beliefs,

priorities,

and ideals from

among

several available

options,

as if picking a box of breakfast cereal from the shelf at the supermarket.

It refers rather to a circumspect style of life characterized

by alertness, careful and thorough consideration of alternatives, appreciation

of logical

commitments,

and awareness of consequences. Such a style of life cannot

guarantee uniformly good

results, but it does minimize

the likelihood that one will fall prey to the whims of other

people

or succumb to the con- tingencies

of natural forces. As one author has pointed out, “We may not be the captains of our fate and the masters of our soul with total

ability

to con- trol the environment around us, but we are the captains of our fate and mas- ters of our soul in our

ability

to be deliberative about the life we lead…”8 Quite simply, choosing,

in the sense intended

here, involves

the exercise of

Philosophers on Philosophy, ed. Charles J. Bontempo and S. Jack Odell (New York: McGraw Hill

Paperbacks, 1975), 119-122.

‘

7 Alfred Korzybski, Science and Sanity (Lakeville, CN: International Non-Aristotelian Library, 1933), “Preliminaries,” 1:7-18; “Introduction,” 3:38-52.

8 Vincent E. Rush, The Responsible Christian (Chicago: Loyola University Press, 1984), 94.

200

5

forms of dogmatism, prejudice masquerading as common

sense,

and cultur- al bias.

Enlivening

the

imagination

has much to do with

learning

to appreciate questions, by

which I mean

learning

to attend to them

carefully,

not for a brief time but

patiently

and

searchingly

over the

long

haul. In this connec- tion,

I am reminded of Rainer Maria Rilke’s

response

to a young aspiring poet

who once

sought

his advice on several

issues,

especially

ones about his poetic ability

and his own unmade future:

You are so young, so before all beginning, and I want to beg you, as much as I can, dear sir, to be patient toward all that is unsolved in heart and to

your

try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms and like books that are written in a

very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you

will then gradually, without

2

noticing it, live along some dis- tant day into the answers.l2

Rilke’s recommendation to live the questions represents an invitation to adopt

an

essentially

reflective

posture

toward life.l3 We

reflect

when we attentively

attend to the ways and extent to which we are implicated in what we

study

or experience, when we consider what

something

means to us, or when we

weigh

the moral claim that

something

or someone has on us.l4 Much

(perhaps most)

of our

thought

is analytical and calculative.

Analysis and calculation make

ordinary

life

possible

because

they

aim at

solving problems.

Their

goal

is to

provide specific

answers to

specific questions. The

products

of analysis and calculation are things like structural

drawings, digital devices,

business

plans,

deductive

logic proofs,

and solutions to chess problems. By contrast,

reflective

thinking

is more like

waiting, taking

time to let

questions deepen by affording

them

patient

consideration. Reflection is less an abandonment of answers than

preparation

of the self to receive answers in due time. It is also

preparation

to understand that some of the answers central to our well-being can never be grasped definitively, but must

12 Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet, rev. ed., trans. M. D. Herter Norton (New York: W. W. Norton & Company, 1934, 1962), 34, 35.

13 For a particularly engaging example of reflective thinking, see Henry G.

Inward A in Journal Form

Bugbee, Jr., The

Morning, Philosophical Exploration (State College, PA: Bald Eagle Press, 1958; reprint, Harper and Row, 1976; reprint with an introduction by Edward F.

of

Mooney, University Georgia Press, 1999).

14 The expression “retlective thought” comes close to Martin Heidegger’s use of the expres- sion “meditative thinking.” See Discourse on Thinking, trans. John M. Anderson and E. Hans Freund (New York: Harper & Row, 1966), 46.

202

6

always

and

necessarily

remain

partial

and tentative.

Reflection,

even when it yields no conclusive answers, liberates us from naive

optimism

and

petty fear as well as from the

misconceptions

that

everything

must

go

our

way and that no one else’s interests are as important as our own.

A

Theological Argument

.

To this point I have described what I believe to be the essential features of liberal education, education characterized not so much

by its specific

cur- riculum as

by

the

types

of

thinking

and

responding

it

attempts

to foster. These features include

developing

an historical

sensibility, learning

to choose

(deliberately

and circumspectly),

learning

to think

imaginatively

and with

appreciation

for questions, and

adopting

a reflective

posture.

This

list, though

not exclusive, does

identify

some of the most

important

features of an education that can liberate us from the provinciality of immediate

expe- rience,

enhance our

resourcefulness,

and

deepen

our

capacity

to assume responsibility

for

meaning.

For

some,

the

foregoing

discussion

provides ample

evidence in itself, without further elaboration, of the value of liberal education.

Understanding its processes and aims constitutes sufficient

grounds

to establish its validity and

importance.

Whenever I am tempted

by this line of reasoning,

I think of people

like the Book T.V. caller, and countless others whom I have known over the

years

in various Pentecostal

congregations,

for whom the value of liberal education is far from evident. Their

skepticism typically

draws on several

sources, including

broad cultural

trends,

such as the

pragmatism

and can-do-ism so common

among Americans; long-standing

and

deep-seated anti-intellectualism;

and

simplistic

and narrow views about the

activity

of the

Holy Spirit

and the role of the Bible in the life of believers. In the remainder of this

paper

I address these concerns with two kinds of

argu- ments : one theological, the other

practical.

I begin with the

theological argu- ment.

Among Pentecostals, developing appreciation

for liberal education is difficult for the reasons

just

now cited but also because it does not seem to integrate obviously

with the

theological principles

that have

historically driven Pentecostalism. Like most other branches of

Christianity, Pentecostalism has claimed to take the entire canon

seriously.

But also like most other branches of

Christianity,

it has emphasized some

passages

more than others.

Functionally

it has

developed

a canon within the canon. For instance,

Acts 2 figures prominently within the Pentecostal canon, as do cer- tain

prophetic

and eschatological texts. As a movement devoted to the work of missions, Pentecostalism has also made Matthew 28:18-20, the so-called

203

7

great commission,

a central text in its canon. 15 In

fact,

this text has

played such a prominent motivational and

theological

role in Pentecostalism

(and has been

interpreted

in such a narrow

way)

as to create the

misleading impression

that humankind’s most fundamental call is to engage in evange- lization. The

practical upshot

of this

misconception

is both

good

and bad. Pentecostalism has become a

leading

force in missions

work,

and Pentecostal churches worldwide have

grown spectacularly during

the twen- tieth century; but education has

generally suffered, being

reduced to the role of vocational

training

for missions or parish work. Pentecostals have

rightly reminded the Christian world that authentic

worship

has an affective com- ponent ;

but

they

have

largely

banished the intellect from their

conception and

practice

of

worship.

The

emphasis

on missions and

evangelism

has brought dignity

and

prestige

to ecclesiastical

callings;

but it has demeaned all other

callings by relegating

them to second-class status.

Without in any way denigrating the work of evangelism, we must insist that our most basic call lies elsewhere. It is best understood

by reference to the Genesis creation account: that we were created in God’s own

image (Genesis 1:26, 27).

The

Scriptures

seem to imply two

primary purposes

for being

created in God’s

image.

The first concerns communion with God. That we have been formed in God’s

image (something

not claimed for any of the other

creatures) suggests

a certain

affinity

and

mutuality

between God and humankind: We are not God’s

equal,

but we were created to be God’s vis-a- vis. The Westminster Catechism

acknowledges

this

purpose

when it

pro- claims that “Man’s chief end is to glorify God and to

enjoy

him forever.” Everything

else is subordinate to this

purpose.

The work of missions and evangelism, though urgent,

is related to this ultimate

purpose only

indirect- ly, due to humankind’s estrangement

from God. When

explicit proclamation of the gospel is successful, it places men and women in a position to realize their ultimate

calling:

communion with their Creator.

In the

history

of Pentecostalism, the so-called

“great

commission” in Matthew 28-“Go therefore and make

disciples

of all nations”-has been read

narrowly

as a commandment to undertake the work of evangelism. But it need not be read

narrowly. Making disciples

can

perfectly

well be under- stood as a mandate to tutor

people

toward a full

understanding

of their

pri- mary calling

before God and to assist them in freely responding to that call. If so understood, then whatever else this

tutelage entails, surely

it must include

restoring, developing,

and

disciplining

the full

range

of God-given

15 Matthew 25:31-46, the judgment of the nations, has been notably absent from the Pentecostal canon, though there is some recent evidence that this is beginning to change.

204

8

potentialities

associated with the life of the mind-such as those elaborated earlier.

The second

purpose

of creation concerns secular

things:

It calls for human

beings

to undertake a range of endeavors summarized in the

expres- sion “dominion”

(Genesis 1; Psalms 8; Hebrews 2). Broadly speaking,

these endeavors are cultural activities

(leading

some to speak of a cultural man- date to

manage

our own and nature’s resources

creatively

and

wisely).lt’ They

include

everything

from

attending

to nature

(as

in

naming

creatures and

having

dominion over

them 17) to making

artifacts.1

g

But here it is important to exercise care in describing both the

purpose and the activities that

exemplify

it. In the divine scheme of things, culture- making

is not fundamentally different from

communing

with God. In other words, we quite miss the point

if we

suggest

that in the first instance God calls us to communion and then later directs us to leave the divine,

holy pres- ence and

dirty

our hands

by engaging

in culture-making.

Rather,

culture- making

articulates

specific ways

of preparing

for, entering into, and express- ing

communion.

By taking

the cultural mandate

seriously

we give concrete expression

to our

relationship

with the Creator in whose

image

we are made.19

9

From this vantage

point,

the connection with liberal education is not dif- ficult to see. Even in its most humble

elements-learning

to read, to write, to listen, to perceive sensitively and

noticingly,

to entertain

possibilities,

and to draw inferences-liberal education is preparation for answering

responsi- bly

to tht cultural mandate in all of our

creaturely

activities. More

general-

16 See Holmes, The Idea of a Christian College, 19. In addition to a mandate to create culture, Miroslav Volf sees in Scripture a mandate to with God in transforming culture. “Work,” in Elements of a Christian Worldview, ed. cooperate Palmer, 219-239, especially 228, 229. 17 For a fuller discussion of the way in which naming is a culture-making activity that evidence of how human beings are made in the image of God, see Twila Brown

gives

Edwards, “The Place of Literature in a Christian Worldview,” in Elements of a Christian Worldview, ed. Palmer, 339-375, “Creation,” 341-348. Additional notable sources include: Michael Edwards, Towards a Christian Poetics (Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans, 1984); J.R.R. Tolkiett, “On Fairy Tales,” in The Tolkien Reader (New York: Ballantine Press, 1966); and Madeleine L’Engle, Walking

on Water: Reflections on Faith and Art (Wheaton, IL: Harold Shaw, 1980).

18 The writer of Exodus singles out two artisans, Bezalel and Oholiab, for special comment. Of Bezalel we are told, “See, I [the Lord] have called

with divine with and

by name Bezalel …

and I have filled him

spirit, ability, intelligence,

in kind of craft, to devise artistic designs, to work in and

knowledge every

gold, silver, bronze, in cutting stones for setting, and in carving wood, in every kind of craft” (Exodus 31:1-5).

19 As Arthur Holmes has said, “While all nature declares the glory of God, we human beings uniquely image the Creator in our created creativity.” The Idea of a Christian College. 21.

205

9

ly, within the framework of a Christian

worldview,

liberal education must be understood as developing our

capacity

to image God in the fullness of our humanity,

which is our

highest

call.

Practical Considerations

If the

preceding theological argument

is

cogent,

it

applies

to all Christians, without regard

to denominational affiliation or historical

place- ment. In the final section of this

paper,

I turn to some

practical

considera- tions with the aim of

demonstrating

how liberal education can assist Pentecostals in facets of life that matter, or ought to matter,

deeply

to them. But before

launching

into the substance of the

arguments,

I wish to clarify precisely

the nature of my thesis. I am not

saying that,

after a century

(more or less) of missionary endeavor, church

planting,

and instruction in doctrine, Pentecostals are now

sufficiently

mature

spiritually

to cope with the tempta- tions

posed by the arts,

sciences,

and humanities. Nor am I saying that, after decades of

freeing

themselves from the lowest socioeconomic stratum, Pentecostals have now earned the right to indulge themselves in some edu- cational luxuries. Liberal education is neither a temptation that

only

mature Christians can be trusted with, nor a fringe benefit for upwardly mobile

peo- ple who have

“arrived.” In my view, Pentecostals

currently

find themselves at an historical

turning point

that is at once

hopeful

and

precarious-hope- ful,

because

demographics

and wider

acceptance by

the dominant culture have

placed

them in a strategic position both to challenge and to shape the surrounding

culture:

precarious,

because for too

long they

have traded on the experiential aspects of faith and sold short the life of the mind.

The

precariousness

of Pentecostals shows itself in two

general ways. First, although they

have

long

criticized

negative

trends in the

surrounding culture,

their lack of a robust intellectual tradition has left them vulnerable to

being coopted by

the

very

trends

they

claim to disdain. For

instance, Pentecostals (like

evangelicals)

have created and embraced “Christian”

pop music that is little different from American

pop music,

with secular musi- cians

leading

the way and calling the tune. Second, Pentecostals’ tradition of anti-intellectualism has left them with

only

scant resources for

dealing

with new cultural and intellectual issues.

They

have

yet

to learn that to combat the

opponent

one must

thoroughly

understand him. So

my

thesis about the importance

of liberal education has nothing to do with Pentecostals

availing themselves of

“interesting”

or “nice” educational electives from time to time-as if to say,

reading

Homer’s

Odyssey

is OK after

all,

so

long

as it does not distract from the really important tasks at hand. In the last analysis, whether Pentecostals come to value liberal education is a matter of immense practical consequence

and considerable

urgency,

because how

they finally

206

10

come to live their lives will depend in large measure on the stewardship

they exercise

over the processes that shape their minds.

I see two

significant

areas in which liberal education can have a salu- tary

effect on Pentecostals:

(1) appropriating

the

past

in an active and searching manner; (2) deepening

and informing moral consciousness. In the remainder of this

essay,

I speak to each of these

briefly.

Appropriating

the Past

To say that Pentecostals lack historical

perspective

is only partly true. Several Pentecostal denominations and some universities have

developed archives. Furthermore, never before in the

history

of Pentecostalism have there been more or better Pentecostal

historians,

not to mention several out- standing

scholars of Pentecostal

history

who do not themselves claim to be Pentecostal. In addition, the vast majority of Pentecostal institutions of high- er education offer courses on the

history

of the modem Pentecostal move- ment. With few exceptions

however,

these sources of Pentecostal

history

are having

little discernible

impact

on the thousands of Pentecostal churches around the world. Yet it is primarily at this

level,

the local church, that his- torical

perspective

is at one and the same time most

evidently languishing and

yet

most

urgently

needed. Sometimes with

good intention,

and some- times

seemingly

with no intention at all, Pentecostal churches have

adopted “contemporary”

forms of

congregational worship. Hymns,

which maintain minimal connection to the

past,

are

commonly

set aside in favor of contem- porary worship songs.

In the

attempt

to

keep pace

with the

popular youth culture, some churches have

relegated adults, particularly

the oldest ones, to the sidelines. Even where this has not occurred,

congregations

are often

seg- regated according

to age and

interest,

with the effect that children and teens have little or no contact with the older

members, who

are the bearers of tra- dition and who

provide

a critical link to the

past. Also, many

Pentecostal churches, following

the seeker

model, have banished

all Christian

symbol- ism from their

places

of

worship.20

Since Pentecostal churches

generally lean

strongly

toward the non-

liturgical

side of Christian tradition

anyway, and thus have few community rituals to connect them to the past, the loss of any residual symbolism

does not bode well for nurturing

appreciation

for the past. Finally, Pentecostals,

like their

contemporaries in the rest of the

cul-

20 Pentecostal churches have also followed the lead of other churches in down-playing, or even

their ties to denominations. In the words of Robert Wuthnow, “Growing numbers of churches might be characterized as open systems, attempting to embrace everyone, while abandoning,

to impose little on anyone.” Christianity in the Twenty-first Century: Reflections on the Challenges Ahead (New York: Oxford University Press, 1993), 49.

attempting

207

11

ture, struggle

with transition. For various

reasons,

families relocate with increasing frequency

and so lose whatever connection

they may

have had with their former

place

of

worship

and

commonly

have no

opportunity

or reason to delve

deeply

into the traditions and defining practices of their new church.

Of course, none of these

phenomena,

taken

singly,

leads

inevitably

to loss of meaningful connection to the past. But in sum

they paint

a picture of churches that, at best,

ignore

their

history.

But

why

is this a problem, and what

might

liberal education do to ameliorate the situation?

Quite simply, the answer to the first

question

is that churches are communities. If they are to be genuine,

sustaining

communities in the midst of an otherwise individ- ualistic nation,

they

must have a robust

conception

of the past. To borrow an expression

from Robert Bellah and his

colleagues,

churches must be com- munities

of memory,

communities that do not

forget

the

past

because

they actively engage

in

telling

and

retelling

their central

story.21 This story,

or collective

history (what

Bellah calls a “constitutive

narrative”),

is not a detached recitation of dates and events but a

living

tradition that offers examples

of men and women who have embodied and

exemplified

the meaning

of the

community.

In Bellah’s

view,

communities of

memory

are essential to the formation of an individual’s

identity, precisely

because

they provide

individuals a collective

history,

a tradition. Alasdair

Maclntyre puts the matter this

way:

A living tradition … is an historically extended, socially embodied argu- ment, and an argument precisely in part about the goods which constitute that tradition. Within a tradition the pursuit of goods extends

sometimes

through generations, through many generations. Hence the individ- ual’s search for his or her

good is generally and characteristically con- ducted within a context defined

by those traditions of which the individ- ual’s life is a part.22

.

If a church’s collective

history

is weak or

ignored-in short,

if a church defaults on its role as a community of memory-then the people whose lives are interwoven with that church are also

likely

to have a weak or passive sense of their own

identity

as Christians. As Robert Wuthnow has observed, “While the idea of

church-as-storyteller may

seem to diminish its

impor-

21 Robert N. Bellah, Richard Madsen, William M. Sullivan, Ann Swindler, and Steven M. Tipton,

Habits of the Heart: Individualism and Commitment in American Life (Berkeley: University

of California Press, 1985), 152-157.

22 Alasdair Maclntyre, After Virtue : A Study in Moral Theorv, 2d ed. (Notre Dame, IN: University

of Notre Dame Press, 1987), 222.

208

12

tance,

this function must

actually

be seen as having the utmost

significance. For the

very

likelihood of

anyone

in the future

retaining

the

identity

of ‘Christian’

depends

on it.”23

If the

preceding analysis

is correct,

reinvigorating

a sense of historical placement

is a matter of considerable

significance

for Pentecostal churches. But

addressing

the current situation will take more than

simply pointing

out the loss of tradition. For Pentecostal churches to become

genuine

and sus- taining

communities of memory will

require precisely

the kinds of intellec- tual commitments identified earlier as defining features of a liberally edu- cated mind.

Congregations

and their leaders must look not

only prospec- tively,

but also

retrospectively,

which is to say the past must be made a mat- ter of conversation. But to be successful over the

long haul,

this conversa- tion cannot be entered into

haphazardly

or

intermittently.

It must be initiat- ed as a matter of genuine choice

(deliberately), approached

in the vein of asking

what the past can mean for the

present (reflectively),

and undertaken in a purposeful, sustained, and concerted

way.

Informing

Moral Consciousness

In order to establish a framework for

talking meaningfully

about informing

the moral consciousness of Pentecostals, I begin with a point of comparison.24

In the Catholic

tradition,

Thomas

Aquinas’s

treatment of nat- ural law comes

quickly

to mind as

exemplifying

what it means for a Christian tradition to embrace a principled, widely

applicable,

and distinc- tive

approach

to moral issues. Classical Pentecostals have not yet embraced a similarly

compelling

and

clearly

articulated moral

theory.

This fact is less indicative of

outright disagreement among

Pentecostals than it is of the embryonic-or perhaps missinb state

of discussion over moral

theory

in Pentecostal circles. Holiness

Pentecostals,

for

example,

have written at length

about the nature, value, and role of sanctification. But beyond

saying what sanctification

might

mean for one’s outward

appearance,

for

example, conservative dress codes, or personal behavior, such as refraining from con- suming alcohol, smoking, dancing, gambling,

and

going

to

movies, they have

generally

drawn few moral

implications.

On the other hand, Finished

23 Wuthnow, Christianity in the Twenty-first Century, 48. For a fuller discussion of the

of the church as a community of memory, loss of

topic

tradition, and the importance of story telling, see especially chapter 3, “The Place for the Christian,” 42-54.

24 The remarks in this section derive from my essay “Ethics in the Classical Pentecostal Tradition,” in The New International Dictionary of Pentecostal and Charismatic Movements, Revised and Expanded Edition, ed. Stanley M. Burgess, assoc. ed. Ed van der Mass (Grand Rapids,

MI: Zondervan, 2001 ).

209

13

Work

Pentecostals, such as the Assemblies of God, have

generally

down- played

the

importance

of

developing

a comprehensive moral

theory.

As a result,

it is possible to sketch

only

in the most tentative and provisional way the main lines of a Pentecostal moral

theory.

Murray Dempster,

one of

only

a few Pentecostal scholars to

attempt such a sketch, has proposed

general

criteria for a Pentecostal moral

theory.25 In his

view,

an adequate Pentecostal moral

theory

must be theocentric. This means,

in part, that a clear

understanding

of God

(particularly

God’s holi- ness and

goodness)

must

guide

one’s life. But more

importantly,

it means that Pentecostals must

distinguish

themselves from other Christians in their view that God’s

Spirit

resides at the center of all

aspects

of Pentecostal life-including

its social,

political,

and economic

practices

and institutions. In

addition, Dempster believes

that an

adequate

Pentecostal moral

theory ought

to be

distinguished by

its concept of the

Imago Dei,

its

portrayal

of what it means to be a covenant

people,

its prophetic tradition of social criti- cism,

and its concern for the

poor,

the

weak, and the disenfranchised. Elaborating

on a theme first articulated

by Stanley Hauerwas, Dempster

also contends that an adequate Pentecostal moral

theory

should

provide

a place for

imagination.

In his

view, human

imagination

can be an effective instru- ment of God’s

Spirit

to stimulate

redemptive

and transformative action in a fractured and chaotic world.

Within a network of valued relationships and activity, an ethics of

.

ination stimulates the moral agent in response to God’s acts to reenact the imag-

human actions of liberation,

justice,

love and reconciliation

through

a

profound identification with the theological convictions and ethical norms of the biblical stories associated with

God’s creative power. An

ethics of imagination not only aims at the reenactment of its stories, but

also at the embodiment of its stories in the formation of the church as the

new society.26

I shall return later to

Dempster’s

interest in “an ethics of

imagination”

in connection with the role of liberal education in the lives of Pentecostals.

Howard

Kenyon,

another Pentecostal scholar, believes

that, although

it is

appropriate

for Pentecostal ethicists to call attention

(as Dempster

has done)

to the

experience

of

Spirit baptism,

“what is

equally

needed is an

25 Murray Dempster, “Pentecostal Social Concern and the Biblical Mandate of Social Justice,” Pentecostal Theology 9:2 (Fall 1987), 129-153; and “Soundings

in the Moral Significance of Glossolalia,” in Pastoral Problems in the Pentecostal- Charismatic Movement, ed. Harold D. Hunter (Cleveland, TN: Church of God School of Theology, 1983), 1-32.

26 Dempster, “Soundings in the Moral Significance of Glossolalia,” 31.

210

14

understanding

of the significance that the concept ‘Age of the Spirit’ has had on the Pentecostal worldview.”27

What made the early pioneers truly Pentecostal was more than just the ability

to speak a language they had not formally studied. What made them Pentecostal was that their entire orientation was governed by the bold notion that they were living in the Age of the Spirit.28

For

Kenyon,

this broader

emphasis

on the concept ‘Age of the Spirit’ means that an

adequate

Pentecostal moral

theory

must be

eschatological

and prophetic.

To be eschatological is to be future-oriented: “The final

hope

of the believer lies in the blessed

hope,

this hope that Christ will return and that the fulfillment of all promise lies in the age to come.” To be prophetic means to proclaim God’s word

boldly

and to articulate its social

implications

for the

present day,

rather than

simply

to foretell future events.

(His

under- standing

of the

prophetic

role of Pentecostals resembles

Dempster’s

treat- ment of the

prophetic

tradition of social

criticism.) Finally, Kenyon

believes that an adequate Pentecostal moral

theory-eschatological

and

prophetic

at its core-will

embody

three fundamental

themes,

which will

provide

its points

of departure for action: liberation,

reconciliation,

and justice.29

It is

important

to

keep

in mind that the sketches of moral

theory described here are idealizations. At no time during the rise of Pentecostalism have

they (or any other

models for Pentecostal moral

theory)

been

formally discussed and filled out in a comprehensive way (much less adopted)

by the governing body

of any Pentecostal denomination or movement. In a certain respect,

this result is exactly what one would

expect

from a religious move- ment whose

pioneers

were bound

by

a common

experience

rather than a common creed.

But there is reason to believe that the historical

reality

is actually more complex

and

regrettable

than

simply saying

that Pentecostals have not

yet developed

a full-bodied moral

theory. Dempster,

for

instance, implies

that Pentecostalism

has come

perilously

close to what he calls “trivialization” and

“evangelicalization”

of the moral life. The moral life is “trivialized” when Pentecostals diminish its weightiness by focusing narrowly on incon- sequential, personal,

and external behaviors. It is

“evangelicalized”

when they

occlude or reject

altogether

certain

distinctively

Pentecostal beliefs and

27 Howard N. Kenyon, An Analysis of Ethical Issues in the History of the Assemblies of God (Ph. D. diss., Baylor University, 1988), 419. ,

28 Ibid., 414.

29 Ibid., 419, 420.

211

15

practices

and

uncritically

assimilate themselves into the

evangelical

main- stream.3?

Although Dempster

does not

actually say

that Pentecostals have succumbed to these reactions, the historical evidence

strongly suggests

that both have occurred in varying

degrees

in classical Pentecostal

groups.

Kenyon

carries the

critique

farther than

Dempster. Identifying

the Assemblies of God as an example of what can

go wrong

with a Pentecostal movement as it

proceeds through

various

stages

of institutionalization, he argues

that in three areas – the status of African Americans in church mem- bership

and

ministry,

the role of women in ministry, and the participation of Christians in war-the Assemblies of God has

“developed

a set of moral principles lacking

the distinctiveness of a thoroughgoing Pentecostal social ethic.” In its early formative

years, according

to Kenyon, the denomination’s ethical

posture

was

shaped by

four

theological emphases:

the imminent return of Christ, the authority of Scripture, the

present Age

of the

Spirit,

and the

priority

of world

evangelization.

He contends that, of the four,

only two-the

authority

of

Scripture

and the

priority

of world

evangelization- continue to have

significant impact.

In his view, the Assemblies of God has been

“reactionary, portrayed

in the denomination’s

ambiguous

attitude toward blacks;

dogmatic,

demonstrated in the

fellowship’s

mixed

approach to women in ministry; and

pragmatic,

illustrated in the General Council’s dramatic shifts in its attitudes toward

participation

in

Mel Robeck offers an even broader

critique

of the Pentecostal move- ment.32 In his view, Pentecostals have been

quick

to recite the proclamation Jesus made at the

beginning

of his ministry: “The

Spirit

of the Lord is upon me, because

he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the

captives

and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the

oppressed go

free,

to

proclaim

the

year

of the Lord’s favor”

(Luke 4:18-19).

But having invoked this

passage

as though they were

empowered to do the same things as Jesus, Pentecostals have

actually appropriated

them

30 Dempster, “Soundings in the Moral Significance of Glossolalia,” 32.

31 Kenyon, An Analysis of Ethical Issues in the History of the Assemblies of God, iii. 32 Cecil M. Robeck, Jr. “Pentecostals and Social Ethics,” Pneumu: The Journal of the Society for

Pentecostal Theology 9:2 (Fall 1987), 103-107. Robeck prefaces his critique with two histor- ical observations: First, revivalism and the Holiness Movement were both

deeply revivalism and to

involved in

about social transformation. Second, Pentecostals are heirs both to

the Holiness bringing Movement: “The spiritual and social commitments of these movements lie behind the birth of Pentecostalism” (103). Robeck believes that there is ample historical evidence of this heritage of commitment to social transformation. He cites a number of examples including A.J. Tomlinson and his ministry to the poor of Appalachia, Lilian Trasher and her orphanage for Egyptian children, Aimee Semple McPherson and her Temple Commissary, and William J. Seymour’s

contribution to racial equality in the church.

212

16

only

in a narrow and limited

way.

Robeck

says,

.

While Pentecostals have ministered freely to those

have often

enduring spiritual poverty, they ignored the plight of the economically of deprived

our society. The approach all too often has been to move away from the city, and away from the and to argue that Jesus anticipated that we would always have the poor,

problem of the poor around….

Pentecostals have typically overlooked those who are captive to the abuses of the unjust

structures of or ideology, and at times have turned their eyes away

from the society

plight of those who are oppressed by their fellow human

beings, whether by economic, political, social, military or even religious

means.33

‘

Robeck believes several factors

explain why Pentecostals departed

from their historical

heritage

of social ethics.

Among

them:

“[T]he

rise of the old liberalism and the social

gospel

tended to taint

Pentecostal, holiness,

and evangelical

involvement with issues of social

justice. [Social activism] became identified as a ‘liberal’

tool,

and therefore as something ‘off limits’ to Pentecostals.” Moreover, “the issue of peer pressure also came into play. As Pentecostals rubbed shoulders with

evangelicals they

also

adopted

the values and concerns of

evangelicals

who stood over

against

‘liberals’ who employed

the social

gospel.”34

Robeck’s

analysis

reinforces the

point

that Pentecostals lack a general and

principled approach

to moral issues. As a result

they

have ended

up responding

to new social

developments

and moral

challenges

in an ad hoc manner,

which in

part explains why

their

history

is scattered with moral lapses

and

compromises.

Of course,

embracing

a general moral

theory

is no guarantee

that similar moral

lapses

and compromises can be avoided in the future. But

surely

Pentecostals have little

prospect

of avoiding them in the absence of such a moral framework. We

may ask,

therefore,

“what it will take to develop a clear and distinctive moral

theory

that is true to the move- ment’s most basic historical and

theological

commitments?”

Asking

this question,

of course, is not the same as asking what such a theory would look like. Rather, it involves

focusing

on the conditions

necessary

for developing a satisfactory theory in the first

place.

And here I wish to focus the discus- sion once

again

on the

importance

of liberal education

by recalling Dempster’s

evocative

expression

“ethics of imagination.”

Dempster implies

that an ethics of

imagination

both reflects on the moral thrust of the Bible’s central narratives and seeks to instantiate the

33 Ibid., 104. 34 Ibid., 106.

213

17

moral

implications

of these narratives in the church.

Unquestionably,

reflect- ing carefully

on the biblical narratives has the potential to enliven the imag- ination. But we must not underestimate the degree to which these narratives are encrusted in a tradition of

interpretation (including

recent Pentecostal tradition)

that militates

against reading

them afresh and

engaging

them in a way

that

truly

offers the

prospect

of refocusing the church’s moral

energy. Moreover, twenty-first century Pentecostals

are no less

susceptible

to dog- matism,

cultural

bias,

and

prejudices masquerading

as common sense than Christians in other branches of the church or during other historical

periods. These facts make it clear that

constructing

an ethics of

imagination poses formidable

challenges.

What can

help

us address these

challenges

success- fully ?

Not

surprisingly,

the answer here is similar to the earlier one about becoming

communities of

memory. Constructing

an ethics of

imagination requires precisely

the kind of intellectual

discipline,

awareness of issues and alternative

approaches,

and tolerance for

uncertainty

that I have

already associated with a liberally educated mind.

Theologians, ethicists,

and other intellectuals in the church must assume a leading role in the

process

of con- ceptualization.

As

Dempster rightly points out, attending attentively

to the biblical narratives is

indispensable.

But the moral

imagination

can also be sparked by

careful, patient

reflection on the

writings

of

philosophers,

the- ologians,

novelists, and playwrights outside the Pentecostal tradition as well as those of scholars in the social sciences and humanities. This

type

of reflection not

only helps

reveal models that have

already

been

articulated, but also, and perhaps most

importantly,

assists us in discovering and assess- ing our

own moral

assumptions. Finally, although

Pentecostal scholars bear a

special responsibility

to lead the

way,

the

process

must continue in the churches. The

clergy,

who control the

governance

structures in all Pentecostal denominations, must concede the

poverty

of

simple proof-text approaches

to moral

questions. They

must

acknowledge

the need for a com- prehensive

and principled

approach

and must

give

enthusiastic endorsement to the kinds of intellectual efforts

necessary

to undertake such a task, know- ing full

well that no algorithm exists for completing it. Moreover,

they

must endorse the

development

of educational

programs

in the church and in our colleges

and universities that are based not on the dissemination of moral dogma

but on the

development

of moral

reasoning.

Moral

education,

while it cannot and should not exclude

preaching,

must include

teaching

and dis- cussion.

Conclusion

Appropriating

the

past

and

informing

moral consciousness

214

, are two

18

obvious

ways

liberal education offers the

prospect

of making a discernible contribution to Pentecostals at this

point

in their

history. Certainly they

are not the only areas of stewardship that merit attention.

Consider,

for instance, that in many

parts

of the world Pentecostals no longer occupy the

margins of society but find themselves

increasingly

in a position to build and

shape culture. What will they offer? That will depend in no small

part on how crit- ically

and

imaginatively they

are

finally

able to think within a Christian framework across a broad

spectrum

of subjects, from economics to political science and social

theory,

and from the humanities to the empirical sciences. Consider, too,

the new

digital technology,

which not

only presents

remark- able

opportunities

but

poses

certain fundamental

challenges

as well. If past is prologue, Pentecostals will repeat the mistakes

they

made at the beginning of the television

age: criticizing

the content but

failing altogether

to under- stand the

philosophical,

social, and moral

implications

of the device itself. The new

digital technologies, exemplified by

the Internet-connected com- puter,

have the capacity to transform

community

life more

profoundly

than television and to reshape our

understanding

of Scripture

(hypertext

is not the same as printed

text).

How will Pentecostals

respond?

Here

again

the answer has much to do with the

stewardship they

exercise over the educative processes

that

shape

their minds.

The

temptation,

of

course,

is to concede that the

“tongues-talking” woman from

Mississippi,

who wondered whether we could

any longer jus- tify devoting

attention to classical literature like Homer’s

Odyssey,

is right. How can we afford to

spend

time with literature or poetry?-or with works of

history, philosophy, theology,

or

ethics?-or, for

that matter, with the principal

stories and heroes in our own brief Pentecostal tradition? Faced with

urgent

and formidable

problems,

should we not address ourselves sin- gle mindedly

to solving them? These

questions presume

the priority of prob- lems over the

development

of the self who is

expected

to meet the chal- lenges

that such

problems pose. They

also

express

a way of

thinking

that explains why

liberal education

languishes among

Pentecostals, at every level and in point of recognition as their most basic educational need. The fundamental

question facing

Pentecostals however, is not whether

they

will be able to acquire the material or political resources to “solve

problems,”

but whether

they

will prove to be adequately prepared to meet the

responsibili- ties that will

inevitably

be thrust

upon

them in the

twenty-first century.

At bottom,

this is a question about whether

they

will

bring

to problems an his- torical

sensibility,

a deliberate and judicious frame of mind, and the

capaci-

.

215

19

ty to think imaginatively

and

reflectively.

In short, it is a question about the formation and discipline of the mind.35

35 I am indebted to my colleagues Robert Berg and Gary Liddle for reading and offering criti- cal commentary on this essay.

216

20