KNOWLEDGE FOR WHAT? RECOVERING THE LOST SOUL OF HIGHER EDUCATION IN THE WEST1 * STEPHEN DEMPSTER * Associate Professor of Biblical Studies Atlantic Baptist College A society that forgets where it came from is in grave danger of perishing. Contemporary thinkers, from theologians to sociologists, believe that this description fits the modern West, arguing that it suffers from a spiritual amnesia which has brought it to the brink.2 Such a condition has particularly affected Western education, where spiritual values once guided and shaped the pursuit and transmission of knowledge. But these have now largely been forgotten, as knowledge is sought for the purposes of power and control, for the advancement of the economic and military capabilities of Western culture.3 In this paper I would like to orient some thoughts about Western education around the question, Knowledge for What? For if there is a question which reveals what the program of education is all about in any culture-its values, its assumptions, its ultimate commitments-it is this one. I wish to pose the question to the current educational situation in the West and hear its answer, then proceed to consider the Western educational heritage and its response, and finally study one of the two main traditions which informed this heritage: the Hebrew and biblical tradition and its answer to the query.4 A summary and brief reflection will follow. The thesis of this paper is simply 1 that the current pursuit of knowledge in the West has lost its soul-its spiritual impetus and guidance. Without the recovery of this lost soul, the implications for Western society and culture are ominous. 1) Knowledge for What? and Higher Education in the West On the eve of World War II, an American sociologist criticized the morally neutral pursuit of knowledge by Western academe. Robert Lynd's frank views were presented in the forum of the Stafford Lecture series at Princeton, and were entitled, Knowledge for What?5 Lynd primarily addressed his fellow social scientists who were striving to attain for their fields the objectivity and prestige of the natural sciences. Their reaction was hardly enthusiastic.6 Yet the ensuing war transformed a sociologist into something of a prophet. The creators of mass death for locations like Auschwitz and Hiroshima were Western scientists. The results of their intellectual activity supplied a dark answer to Lynd's question. In fact Lynd's citation of one scholar's remarks about the pursuit of knowledge, presented at a scientific conference in 1938, is eerie in retrospect: The utmost exercise of intelligence means the free use of intelligence. [The scientist] must be willing to follow any lead that he can see, undetermined by any inhibitions, whether it arise from laziness or other unfortunate personal characteristics, or intellectual tradition, or the 2 social conventions of the epoch.7 In another historical context this statement might appear innocuous, but not in 1938. In fact, it was a close relative to the remarks of two famous Western scientists, Robert Oppenheimer and Edward Teller. The former stated, "If an experiment is sweet, one must go ahead with it" and the latter, "We would be unfaithful to the traditions of Western civilization if we should shy away from what man can accomplish." This strong endorsement of an unrestricted pursuit of knowledge by scientists whose brilliance created respectively the A-bomb and H-bomb is certainly significant. At the least it puts the question Knowledge for What? with more force, and at the most this questions sounds like the child's honest assessment that "The Emperor has no clothes!" Only this time the child is a sociologist and the emperor is Western science, whose spiritual and moral nudity has been laid bare by the mass carnage of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Naked reason, apart from the clothes of spirituality, is a dark instrument. Herbert Spencer stated that the central question of any educational philosophy was "What Knowledge is of the most Worth?"8 But in a world perched on the abyss, the more fundamental question is Lynd's. The answer to the question Knowledge for What? determines the response to the query What Knowledge? Furthermore, it shows clearly the direction or goal of the pursuit of knowledge so that the pursuit itself can be candidly evaluated. 3 The question is more central given the knowledge explosion which has taken place in the postwar era. This age has been variously called the "information age," the "postindustrial epoch," the "knowledge era." In this new period the main occupations consist of knowledge specialists: researchers, users, communicators, disseminators.9 The prime tools of the knowledge class of modernity are the computer and database. And the dominating institution in the information landscape is the university whose specific aim is to pursue knowledge, transmit it, and to train others in the pursuit. As the West struggles to survive amidst the sea of knowledge, as countless ethical questions are raised by new discoveries and research taking place at the universities,10 the question Knowledge for What? demands a frank answer. A brief look at the history of higher learning in the West elucidates what may seem like a puzzle. The founder of Western science, Francis Bacon, stressed the issue of knowledge for power.11 It is interesting that Bacon felt that magic was to be rejected, not because it was wrong, but because it was ineffective. With the impact of the Enlightenment and the stress on the all-sufficiency of human reason, it was inevitable that spiritual values, which had been regarded as important for learning, became increasingly regarded as irrelevant. In the words of the astronomer La Place, God became the unnecessary hypothesis. And with the beginning of the industrial revolution, the potential of the 4 pursuit of knowledge to raise the economic standard of living, was demonstrated once and for all. The impact of these views on the Western education system was momentous. In Germany, the founding of a triad of universities in the early nineteenth century set the agenda for higher education in Berlin, Bonn and Munich.12 In each of these centers there was a stress upon scientific research and the physical and social sciences at the expense of theology. Although there was genuine intellectual renewal, the relevance of the new knowledge to make Germany a powerful industrial nation was evident, and it proved difficult not to compromise the educational agenda in the interests of government and industry. The process was more gradual in the United States and Canada but these countries also followed the German lead. As a result of significant American scholars being influenced by the European model, and business and government discerning the potential power of the university for increasing the standard of living, higher learning was fundamentally changed. In 1862, the Morill Act was passed in the U.S.A. and states were given 30,000 acres each.13 The sale of the land was to found colleges whose primary purpose was to supply the necessary skills to develop the states' agricultural sectors. In 1876, Johns Hopkins University, the first graduate school modeled after the German research institutions, opened. The power of the use of knowledge to improve the standard of living was now 5 obvious, and the pursuit became inextricably tied to this goal. Commenting on this development, Bellah writes: . . . the new education brought social amelioration in its wake and prepared a vastly larger number of peoples for employment in an industrial society, and it included those who because of class, sex, or race were almost completely excluded in the early 19th century.14 But also observed are the side effects of a pursuit of knowledge tied to the interests of economic power: the university was replaced by what has been termed a "multi-versity" in which research specialists, funded by corporate and government money, pursued "relevant" specialized knowledge in a multitude of different fields. No attempt was made at integration, and teaching became relatively unimportant.15 In the 20th century the trend continued, particularly after the two world wars. Commenting on the growing financial dependence of the multiversities on business and government, Clark Kerr, president of the University of California, cited the limerick: There was a young lady from Kent Who said that she knew what it meant When men took her to dine Gave her cocktails and wine She knew what it meant-but she went.16 Kerr continues: "I am not sure that the universities and 6 their presidents always knew that it meant [to go to the federal government for funding]; but one thing is certain- they went."17 Not surprisingly, Kerr describes the modern "multiversity" with language taken from the business world, as the paramount institution in the knowledge era because it is "the producer, wholesaler and retailer of knowledge."18 Is it any wonder that there has been a growing marginalization of the humanities in the new knowledge factories and an increased emphasis on vocational and technique-oriented education? The burning question for a factory is: What is marketable?-and this in turn is answered by what is important for the culture. The answer is clear- knowledge which results in economic and military power. Although the expression "multiversity" seems to indicate the fragmentation of the pursuit of knowledge, there is clearly a goal for the pursuit and that is domination-the conquest of material reality. Nature exists to be conquered and manipulated by human technique. Knowledge is pursued for control. This explains the critical importance of the natural and social sciences. It also explains the conspicuous absence of spiritual and moral values. Such a milieu seems antithetical to them, as such values are not "marketable." The repercussions on the lives of students are devastating. They are taught by way of omission that there is no place for the spiritual in the most important institution in society. They also 7 quickly learn that the chief purpose of an education is a ticket to the good life. As Kerr observes, the university is the chief port of entry into most if not all of the prestigious professions in Western society.19 But this absence of the spiritual and the moral from the pursuit of knowledge is ominous. Reflecting on this situation, Charles Malik writes: Who is going to supply the necessary restraint, the necessary fear, the necessary compassion, against this unbounded willfulness of man? All these holders of immense power are products of the university, and if the dominant spirit of the university continues to be hostile to, or even indifferent to, absolute spiritual values, then God help the future of mankind.20 The science fiction novel, A Canticle for Leibowitz, dramatizes Malik's point. In this book, a second world history is recounted after the first ended in atomic holocaust. During the medieval period of the second history, a scholar is confronted with evidence for a previous civilization far more advanced than his own. He finds this incredible and remarks to a priest: "How can a great and wise civilization have destroyed itself so completely?" The response of the priest is immediate: "Perhaps by being materially great and materially wise and nothing else."21 Malik's thesis is illustrated not only in the verbal 8 exchange between the two characters but in the fundamental difference between their professions. There is a separation between scholarship and priesthood and this dichotomy is ultimately fatal. The division of reason from faith, and knowledge from virtue, leads directly into the abyss. Knowledge for power simply destroys: "If an experiment is sweet, one must go ahead with it." This flies in the face of the Judeo-Christian tradition which describes the first temptation as identical. But part of the problem is the West's spiritual amnesia. There is an ignorance of the fact that the educational heritage was richly spiritual and that the divorce between the pursuit of knowledge and spiritual values must be nullified if there is to be hope for both. In the next few paragraphs I wish to survey briefly the great legacy Christianity contributed to education and to show that the question Knowledge for What? has quite a different answer for much of Western history. 2) Knowledge for What? and the Legacy of Western Education There are examples of hostility to the pursuit of knowledge within the Christian tradition from the earliest beginnings to the present day. Tertullian's dictum is the most notorious: "What has Jerusalem to do with Athens, the Church with the Academy . . . After Jesus Christ we have no need of speculation, after the Gospel, no need of research."22 There have been other salient examples of anti-intellectualism in the church's history such as the 9 censure of Galileo, the Inquisition, and the rise of many varieties of authoritarian groups and sects. But this is a small part of the picture. From the beginning the pursuit of knowledge was taken seriously. Early Christian thinkers felt it necessary to study, and defend their faith intellectually. An early school was established at Antioch by Origen, who saw the importance of liberal studies such as geometry, arithmetic, and philosophy as well as theology.23 Other schools were also started for similar cathechetical reasons. In time the monasteries arose, the earliest of which were founded by Benedict and Cassiodorus. Although the stress was on the contemplative life of service to God, this necessitated study, and the monasteries, supremely religious institutions, became the centers of knowledge, education and culture during the dark ages. During the Carolingian renaissance, Charlemagne saw the importance of education for religious reasons and issued a Capitulary stressing the need for schools.24 Soon the monastic institutions were supplanted in the educational task by the cathedrals as a church council (853 A.D.) declared that the teaching of religion should take place in a parish school, and the liberal arts should be taught in a cathedral.25 Eventually, in conjunction with other factors, such institutions gave birth to the first great universities, particularly in northern Europe.26 In many of the universities, theology was both the queen of the sciences and the culmination of intellectual 10 pursuit. Other studies, the humanities and the natural sciences, were preparatory to the study of theology. Writing of the revolutionary impact of Christianity on education at this time, Latourette observes: "In no phase of life in Western Europe unless it may be religion, was the influence of Christianity so marked as on education and scholarship."27 When learning became an end in itself, scholarship deteriorated in the universities under the influence of an oppressive scholasticism. Renaissance Humanism was a strong reaction against mere intellectualism-knowledge for its own sake-and spirituality and virtue were stressed as the goals of the pursuit of knowledge. When Petrarch wrote a letter to a young man who had mentioned an old logician in love with dialectic, it is clear that knowledge should not be an end in itself but a means to becoming good: I know how much the Stoics . . . attribute to it. I know it is one of the liberal arts, and a stepping stone for those who are pressing upwards to higher things. It is not useless armour for those who walk through philosophers' thickets. It arouses the intellect, marks off the path to truth, and shows how to avoid fallacies. Finally if nothing else, it makes people quick and witty. But where we pass through with honour, we do not remain with praise. On the contrary, the traveller who, because the road is pleasant, 11 forgets the goal that he has set for himself, is of unsound mind. Praise for the traveller lies in having passed quickly through many things, and never having stopped short of the journey. And who among us is not a traveller? We all for a brief and hostile time, as during a rainy day in winter, make a long and difficult journey. Dialectic can be a part of the journey, but surely not the goal. And it can be part of the journey we make in the morning, not in the evening. . . . So stir up the pupils of that old man with my words. Don't deter them, but encourage them, not that they hasten towards dialectic, but through it to better things. Tell the old man, then, that I do not condemn the liberal arts but childish people.28 A century later as Christian Humanism blossomed, the stress on learning and virtue was even stronger. Both were necessary, but as Jacob Wimpfeling of Alsace wrote. "What profits all our learning, if our character be not correspondingly noble, all our industry without piety, all our knowing without love of our neighbour."29 The rebirth of learning occurs because of the recovery of a lost spiritual dynamic, the soul. The events of Reformation and Counter-Reformation continued this stress. Luther argued forcefully for a public education system since ignorance was regarded as the 12 Devil's best ally: [Satan] "much preferred blockheads and dunces that men may have more abundant sorrows and trials in the world."30 Calvin viewed the world as the theatre of God's glory, and therefore the pursuit of knowledge meant the pursuit of the creator's thoughts. This stress on the creation later formed the basis for Comenius's great contribution to Western education. In his classic work, The Great Didactic, he based his philosophy of education on the creation of humanity in Genesis 1:26 and stressed reason, dominion, and the image of God. The origin and goal of education were informed by the Judeo-Christian revelation. As Comenius put it: man must first "understand all things, second he can rule over all things and himself, and third, that he and all things be related to God as the Source."31 Systematic education, virtue and religion were inextricable. In Catholicism, the founding of the Jesuit religious order revolutionized education. Within seventy years it had founded 250 colleges and universities, and by 1700, a century later, there existed 720 Jesuit colleges and universities.32 For the Jesuits "education was important because it was one of the weightiest duties of the Society to teach men all the branches of knowledge . . . in order that they may be moved thereby to a knowledge and love of their creator and redeemer."33 In the American colonies, one of the first concerns was to establish an educational institution, a concern arising from profound Christian faith: 13 After God had carried us safe to New England, and we had built our houses, provided necesaries for our livelihood, raised convenient places for God's worship and settled the civil government, one of the next things was to advance learning and to perpetuate it to posterity.34 Two years later in 1638, the Reverend John Harvard gave a generous amount of money and his library to the college. As a result, the college assumed his name. The curriculum of 1642 had a broad liberal arts component and the daily classes included a worship experience. The stress on the pursuit of knowledge and spirituality was ubiquitous as evidenced by a contemporary description of the college: Over the college is Master Dunster placed as President, a learned and amiable, and industrious man, who hath so trained up his pupils in the tongues and arts, and so seasoned them with the principles of divinity and Christianity that we have to our great comfort and in truth, beyond our hopes, beheld their progress in learning and godliness.35 The stress on spirituality and the pursuit of knowledge was a major feature of American educational life for the next two hundred years. By 1820, there were in existence thirty-two colleges, and by 1862, 182 of the country's permanent institutions were founded. Ninety percent of the colleges were the result of a religious body.36 14 Lynd's question receives a clear answer from the Western educational tradition. Erudition, power and knowledge for itself were not the ends of learning but rather the latter was a means to transform the world for the Creator. The gradual loss of this soul has already been discussed. But the fact of the matter is that many are unaware of this spiritual dynamic which inspired the pursuit of knowledge in the West and which gave it direction. Much has been made of the classical contribution to Western culture and education-Athens; but to omit the legacy of Jerusalem is a serious error. Something inherent in Christianity necessitated the pursuit of knowledge and also bound it to a specific spiritual goal. To discover the origin of this inspiration one must get behind Christianity to the biblical traditions which gave it birth-Jerusalem, and not Athens. 3) Knowledge for What? and the Biblical Tradition Three groups of pivotal texts relevant to this question will be discussed: The Primal History (Genesis 1-11), The Wisdom Literature (Proverbs, Job and Ecclesiastes) and the Gospel of John (in particular, Chapters 1 and 13). A) The Primal History: This text begins with the creation of the world (Genesis 1) and ends with the world in the uncreation of Babel (Genesis 11). The world which ascended out of chaos and darkness by divine life-giving speech has descended into the disorder and night of human linguistic confusion. The main theme of this material has 15 to do with a pursuit of knowledge which has gone astray. In fact Lynd's question Knowledge for What? is central to an understanding of this section of universal history which prefaces the national salvation history (Genesis 12-50).37 In Genesis 1-2:3, the creation of the world is depicted in precise and artful language in a sequence of six days.38 As a result of a series of creative acts there is a movement from nothingness to a stunning world of pristine beauty. The creation of humanity is the high point in the account as it alone of all the creation is patterned in the divine image (Genesis 1:26-28). Human beings have as their cause and their end the Creator. They are called to use their intellectual capacity to master and develop the creation for God's glory. God's creative acts form the basis of the pursuit of knowledge; God's command to master the universe inspires the pursuit; and the end of the pursuit itself is simply obedience and love. But in Genesis 2:4-3:24, there are restrictions placed on the pursuit. This is symbolized by a tree of knowledge of good and evil which is placed in humanity's first habitat. It is off-limits, representing a sphere of knowledge forbidden to human beings. Any attempt to partake of this tree recognizes no limits to the quest for knowledge and is consequently an act of autonomy. Such an attempt is inspired by perversity (the snake) and has as its end knowledge for power-the quest to become like God. When the first couple transgress their limits, they 16 know themselves in a different way. They use their knowledge to clothe themselves, to escape God's presence and to deny responsibility. They soon know death and suffering, and they are barred from God's life-giving presence. In Genesis 4 the narrative proceeds to sketch two different paths for the pursuit of knowledge: the paths of Cain and Abel. Cain is inspired by jealousy and selfishness while love for God motivates Abel. Cain uses his knowledge to destroy the image of God in the face of his brother, and the subsequent denial of responsibility expressed in the well-known question, "Am I my brother's keeper?" (Genesis 4:9), marks his descendants as well as himself. Cain's genealogy is the first one recorded in the Bible but its moral significance is far more important than any historical value it might have. In this first family tree, there is mention of the first urban planners, farmers, metallurgists and practitioners of the arts (Genesis 4:17-22). The genealogy breathes the atmosphere of people excited by the first learning and passionate pursuit of knowledge. But the text is hardly complimentary in its present context. More is said by way of omission. These ancient generations are known only for a pursuit of knowledge whose tone was set by a self-centered predecessor. The end of this pursuit is shown in a sinister figure who concludes the genealogy- Lemech, a person who is autonomy personified, a child-killer with a limitless capacity for vengeance (Genesis 4:23-24). This is one path of knowledge, knowledge for which God 17 is an unnecessary hypothesis, knowledge which leads to many early technological achievements, but also knowledge which ends in death. But this is not the only way. There is also Abel's way. Although he is slain, Abel is replaced by another named Seth who introduces the continuation of a religious life for his posterity that is known primarily not for its technological achievements but its spirituality. When his son Enosh (meaning humanity; therefore, a new humanity) is born, human beings again are described as calling upon the name of the Lord (Genesis 4:26). Prayer, communion with God, is to mark this new line of human beings. The preeminent person in this family tree is Enoch (Genesis 5:24) who is known for his fellowship with his Creator (not a city; cf., 4:17). As a person named Lamech concludes Cain's genealogy, so another concludes Seth's. The only similarity, however, is the name. As the first was a child-killer, the second is a child creator (the father of Noah, Genesis 5:28); as the second is an incarnation of pure autonomy, the second is radically dependent upon his Creator for help. By juxtaposing these two genealogies, the author is explicitly comparing two ways of life, two paths of the pursuit of knowledge, and two different destinies. The path of Cain leads to violence, vengeance and ultimately the primal deluge. That of Seth leads to prayer, communion, and through the waters of the deluge, to a new world as depicted in the story of Noah and his family (Genesis 6-10). But the illicit path of the pursuit of knowledge, 18 unfortunately, does not end with the flood. The post-diluvian human community soon embarks again upon the false way. Knowledge is used for power as early scientific skills help create a tower whose top will reach the heavens, thus giving humanity a name!39 Nothing less than the illicit pursuit of knowledge is at stake here, and the confusion of tongues at Babel is the result as God saves humanity from another course of self-destruction. B) The Wisdom Literature: The Wisdom writings in some respects are the ancient Israelite equivalent of textbooks for an educational curriculum.40 However, there is not much certainty about the social location of this literature.41 The first unambiguous evidence of a school system in Israel occurs about 180 B.C.42 "Schooling" probably occurred in the context of the home and a formal school may have existed in the royal court to train officials for administration. Whatever the context of the schooling, the pursuit of knowledge was extremely important. Its neglect was fatal. Repeatedly in the literature there is a stress on God's creative activity: "By wisdom the Lord made the earth's foundations and by understanding he set the heavens in place; by his knowledge the springs of the deep burst forth and clouds dropped dew."43 But this creation theology is not abstract-it has immediate practical relevance. The world in its teeming variety is laden with meaning and significance-God's wisdom and understanding and knowledge. The structure of the universe demands investigation and 19 personal application. Not to do so is to live in the realm of ignorance and death. The necessity of the pursuit of knowledge is emphasized by the personification of wisdom, the structure of creation, in the form of a female, beckoning everyone to learn from her. She appears everywhere: she is at the gates of the city as a maiden selling her wares;44 she has built a house and prepared a sumptuous banquet for everyone who will come.45 This is nothing less than God's passionately personal invitation to study his world. It is almost as if the creation is like a beautiful woman, wooing her beloved. The banquet that is prepared to feast upon is the world of knowledge and wisdom in all its rich variety. One can learn from insects and clouds, gardens, fires and birds: everything has a purpose, a design and time.46 Such structure permeates not only the material sphere but also the more important moral realm. If creation theology clearly demands the pursuit of knowledge, the goal of knowledge is also salient. In the historical texts dealing with wisdom, the embodiment of the ideal is Solomon.47 He discourses on all aspects of the created order, thus leading humanity to a greater understanding of the rich variety and complicated patterning in the world and consequently a richer and fuller life. The effect of this is the acclamation of the greatness of God. But fundamentally he uses his knowledge for justice, for the discernment of right from wrong and the maintenance of 20 order. In the classic text which functions as a paradigm of the right use of knowledge, he is depicted trying to determine which of two prostitutes is the mother of a child.48 Why is this text so important? Because Solomon, the great king of Israel is using his knowledge to right a wrong at the lowest strata of Israelite society. Without any word of direct revelation, he makes the right decision and helps a victim of injustice. The text proceeds to say that Solomon possessed wisdom for the application of justice.49 If justice is love in action, the pursuit of knowledge is for love. The wisdom texts state clearly that there is a basic spiritual and moral prerequisite for the pursuit of knowledge. This is expressed in the technical expression, "the fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge."50 This is a fundamental declaration that faith in and humility before the Creator was a sine qua non in the quest for knowledge. In order to know the facts of creation, the Creator must be known. Gerhard von Rad sums up the situation concisely: [The fear of the Lord] . . . contains in a nutshell the whole Israelite theory of knowledge. In the almost abrupt way in which it is expressed, it gives the impression that some form of polemic might be involved. Why the repetition of this firm assertion that all knowledge has its point of departure in knowledge about God, if the 21 pupil's range of vision did not contain other possible ways of acquiring knowledge which were being firmly repulsed? But nothing specific can be said about this. At any rate there lies behind the statement an awareness of the fact that the search for knowledge can go wrong, not as a result of individual, erroneous judgements or of mistakes creeping in at different points, but because of one single mistake at the beginning.51 (emphasis mine) The phrase, "the fear of the Lord," has to do with a personal encounter with the Creator. One must be humble, with a willingness to obey the Lord. Again, Solomon incarnated these characteristics. After accession, he does not desire the natural accouterments of kingship: wealth and power and glory. Instead he longs for a "hearing heart" and presents himself before the Lord as a child without any understanding. Significantly, the knowledge he covets is for service. And in a personal encounter, the Lord grants Solomon's request.52 By way of contrast, the absence of the fear of Yahweh describes a hard-hearted, unteachable individual characterized by pride and autonomy. The wisdom writers describe such a person as foolish-not in the sense of intellectual deficiency but because of a lack of integrity or wholeness of the heart. What good is any type of knowledge, the sages would say, if it does not lead to a 22 more vital spiritual and moral life? In fact it is dangerous!53 If the necessity and end of the pursuit of knowledge is stressed in the texts, limits to the quest are also delineated. Ecclesiastes and Job indicate that human ontology restricts the scope of human epistemology. Divine knowledge and human knowledge cannot be finally equated. Such texts serve as reminders that human reason is insufficient as a means to discover ultimate meaning. Consequently, the Israelite sages return to the beginning of the process-faith and humility-"the fear of the Lord: this is wisdom."54 It is interesting to compare the pursuit of knowledge in the modern West which has lost its soul with the pursuit described in the Wisdom literature. The universe in the modern world is an impersonal machine, an object to be analyzed and dominated. The laboratory and the controlled experiment are the keys to knowledge. But in the wisdom literature, the texts breathe the spirit of wonder and astonishment. Creation is not an impersonal machine; it is personified, chanting out directions and instructions, calling everyone to slow down, reflect, listen and live! Life is a banquet and most are starving to death. Job in his pain and sorrow has his eyes opened to the wonders and mystery of creation as his eyes move from one startling phenomenon to another-and these phenomena are the ordinary elements of life.55 The world evokes mystical awe.56 23 C) New Testament Reflections: In the Gospels the central fact is Jesus. He is the logoV, the reason or thought of God, at the least an expression of what God's knowledge is all about. The revolutionary truth is that logoV became sarx-----theWord became flesh.57 The motivation for this action is clearly presented as due to the love of God which desired to embrace a lost and dying humanity, which neither human reason nor ability could save. This is particularly demonstrated in John's description of the foot-washing scene at the last supper.58 There are two relevant points described here. First, Jesus was now fully aware of his identity. He possesses full knowledge of his divinity and of his particular role in history.59 Secondly, in possession of such knowledge he takes up the towel and washes the dirty feet of his servants. The image is absolutely shocking-the exalted God and the lowly servant are one! Knowledge for what? Knowledge for love! In the Pauline writings and the rest of the New Testament, Christ is regarded as the embodiment of wisdom and knowledge. This is a knowledge to be pursued with all one's being, but it is a knowledge which when grasped leads to the same servant mentality that possessed Christ: to have the mind of Christ is to act as He did.60 Knowledge apart from this end "puffs up,"61 and is ever learning but never coming to a knowledge of the truth.62 The end of all knowledge is a pure heart intent on loving God and neighbor.63 24 In summing up these biblical texts three points emerge. First, the pursuit of knowledge is a mandate placed upon humanity by virtue of creation. Secondly, the goal of the pursuit is variously described: loving obedience (Genesis), justice (Wisdom Literature) and love (New Testament). Finally, there are limits placed on the pursuit. It is to be informed and sustained by the religious vision of the fear of the Lord. In sum, when all these factors are considered the question of Knowledge for What? receives a clear answer: It is Knowledge for Love. Let me sum up the argument thus far. There is a crisis in Western education which has been caused by a spiritual amnesia, a lapse of the memory in which spiritual values which motivated and guided the pursuit of knowledge have been forgotten. In this sense education has lost its soul. This spiritual dynamic was received from the Church, which in turn, received it from the Bible. I realize that I have omitted the Greek legacy, but usually it is treated extensively at the expense of the Hebraic. I am also not naive about the soul or religious vision of Western education. There are parts of it which deserve to be lost, and many times the soul has been confined and restricted because of the sins of greed, social class elitism, sexism and racism. But there is no disputing the essential constituent parts of this soul's anatomy. Human beings are made for eternity, the world is the creation of God and laden with sacred significance, and there is a 25 mandate to learn for reverence and service to one's neighbor. The ultimate goal is a world in harmony with its creator. The disemboweled, soulless, cadaver of modernity is also not in doubt. Material reality is of the essence; the world is a machine to be analyzed and dominated for personal profit; educational priorities are oriented towards understanding the machine for the purposes of exerting power over it. There is no stress on service or reverence, only a faith in all-sufficient reason. The two educational visions have definite implications. Let me sketch out two consequences in the lives of two gifted intellectuals of our time. The first is that of Jean Vanier who left his position at the University of Toronto to found an organization named L'Arche which is dedicated to helping the mentally handicapped live as human beings made with the dignity Vanier believes God gave them. Jean Vanier did this because he embraced the first vision-intellect at the service of love. The result of this vision is communities all over the world seeking to live in the spirit of the Beatitudes. The inspiration of the vision is beyond doubt: I began L'Arche in 1964, in the desire to live the Gospel and to follow Jesus Christ more closely. Each day brings me new lessons on how much Christian life must grow in commitment to life in community, on how much that life needs faith, the 26 love of Jesus and the Holy Spirit if it is to deepen. Everything I say about life in community . . . is inspired by my faith in Jesus.64 The second individual is the brilliant scientist, Robert Oppenheimer, who supervised the Los Alamos project-the creation of the Atomic bomb, and who is remembered in history for the use of intellect at the service of power: the legacy-death. Toward the end of an article entitled, "The Tree of Knowledge," Oppenheimer discourses on the difference between "clean" and "dirty" bombs; i.e., bombs with large amounts of radiation fallout and those with little: The bombs at Hiroshima and Nagasaki . . . were clean. They were exploded high in the air and few if any casualties were produced by fallout. Possibly there were a handful on a global scale, but practically all the hundreds of thousands who died, and the others who were maimed from radiation and blast did not have the benefit [sic!] of fallout. Nevertheless, I vastly prefer our first dirty bomb to those two clean ones.65 It is incredible that human life can be discussed in such a trivial and degrading manner. But is no accident in a vision in which intellect is divorced from love, in which the soul of the body has been lost. Choices do matter. Visions of life have consequences. Western education has lost its soul. Educators would do 27 well to ponder the priest's response to the scholar who asked, "How could such a great and wise civilization have destroyed itself so completely?" The answer was clear and unequivocal: "By being materially great and materially wise and nothing else."66 Notes 1This paper was recently presented at a forum sponsored by the chaplaincy of the University of New Brunswick entitled, "For God's Sake: Culture, Politics and Religion." I wish to thank Dr. John Valk, Campus Chaplain at UNB for the invitation to participate. 2See Robert Bellah et al., Habits of the Heart: Individualism and Commitment in American Life (New York: Harper & Row, 1985); George Grant, Technology and Justice (Toronto: Anansi Press, 1986); Alistair MacIntyre, After Virtue (Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 1984); Thomas Oden, Agenda for Theology: After Modernity . . . What? (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 1990); Marvin Perry, Arnold Toynbee and the Crisis of the West (Washington, D.C.: University Press of America, 1982); Arnold Toynbee, A Study of History (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1946); Mankind and Mother Earth (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1976). For a more sympathetic understanding of modernity see Charles Taylor, Sources of the Self: The Making of the Modern Identity (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1989). 28 3On some of the current problems in Western education see: Robert Bellah, Habits of the Heart, 297ff; Reginald Bibby, Mosaic Madness (Toronto: Stoddart, 1990), 130ff, 188ff; Allan Bloom, The Closing of the American Mind (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1987); Robert Proctor, Education's Great Amnesia (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 1988); Page Smith, The Killing of the Spirit (New York: Viking Press, 1990); Dinesh D'Souza, "Illiberal Education," Atlantic Monthly (March 1991), 51-79. 4I find it lamentable that some of the main contributions to the discussion on education and its amnesia do not really deal with the Hebrew and Christian tradition, stressing rather the importance of the classical heritage. See Bloom, Closing of the American Mind and Proctor, Education's Great Amnesia. 5Robert Lynd, Knowledge for What? The Place of Social Science in American Culture (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1939). 6Mark Calvin Smith, Knowledge for What? Social Science and the Debate Over Its Role in 1930's America (University of Texas at Austin: Unpublished Ph.D. Dissertation, 1980). 7Lynd, Knowledge for What? 8"What Knowledge is of the Most Worth?" Classics in Education, ed. Wade Basking (New York: Philosophical Library, 1966), 672-95. 9See Bibby, Mosaic Madness, 71ff. 10John Rodgers, ed., Medical Ethics, Human Choices 29 (Kitchener, Ontario: Scottdale, 1988). 11Francis Bacon, "The New Scientific Method," in Classics in Western Thought, ed. Edgar Knoebel (New York: Harcourt, Brace and Jovanovich, 1988), Vol. III: 11-19. 12E. H. Gwynne-Thomas, A Concise History of Education to 1900 A.D. (Lanham, MD: University Press of America, 1981), 248. 13Gwynne-Thomas, A Concise History of Education to 1900 A.D., 202ff. 14Bellah, Habits of the Heart, 299. 15Bellah, Habits of the Heart, 299. 16Clark Kerr, The Uses of the University, 3rd ed. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1982), 69. 17The Uses of the University, 69. 18The Uses of the University, 114. 19The Uses of the University, 111. 20Charles Malik, A Christian Critique of the University (Downer's Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 1982). 96. 21Walter Miller, Jr., A Canticle for Leibowitz (Toronto: Macmillan, 1968), 139-40. 22Ed Miller, ed., Classical Statements on Faith and Reason (New York: Random House, 1970), 5. 23Eusebius, Ecclesiastical History (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Book House, 1974), ch. XVIII. 24Margaret Gillett, "Charlemagne's Anxiety to Improve Education," in Readings in the History of Education (Toronto: McGraw-Hill, 1969), 70-71. 30 25Gwynne-Thomas, A Concise History of Education to 1900 A.D., 45ff. 26Hastings Rashdall, "The Medieval University," Cambridge Ancient History, ed. J. R. Tanner et al. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1929), Vol. VI: 559-601. 27A History of the Expansion of Christianity (New York: Harper and Brothers, 1938), Vol. II: 385. 28Cited in Proctor, Education's Great Amnesia, 171ff. 29Cited by E. Harrison Harbison, "Liberal Education and Christian Education," in The Christian Idea of Education, ed. Edmund Fuller (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1957), 64. 30"Letter to the Mayors and Magistrates" in Baskin, Classics in Education, 376. 31Margaret Gillet, "The Great Didactic," in Readings in the History of Education, 118. 32Gwynne-Thomas, A Concise History of Education to 1900 A.D., 114-16. 33The Ratio Studiorum" in Baskin, Classics in Education, 310. Note further section 22 of the Studiorum: "The special aim of the teacher, in his lectures on suitable occasion and elsewhere, should be to inspire his pupils to the service and love of God and to the exercise of the virtues through which we may please him, and to lead them to recognize this as the sole end of their studies." Baskin, Classics in Education, 314. 31 34Henry Preserved Smith, (New York: Collier & Macmillan, 1962), 280-6. 35Smith, The Origins of Modern Culture, 295. 36Gwynne-Thomas, A Concise History of Education to 1900 A.D., 193-4. 37For scholarly treatments of the first chapters of Genesis see H. Blocher, In the Beginning, trans. by David G. Preston (Downer's Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 1984); David J. A. Clines, The Theme of the Pentateuch (Scheffield: JSOT Press, 1978); Joan Obrien and W. Major, In the Beginning: Creation Myths from Ancient Mesopotamia and Greece (Chico, CA: Scholars Press, 1982). 38The question of whether the text ends in verse 4 instead of 3 and whether chapter 1 is the work of a different hand (P) than chapters 2 and 3 (J) is not relevant to the present study. 39Genesis 11:1-9. Scholars have long noted the stress on the word name in this text. 40For standard introductions to the Wisdom Literature see James Crenshaw, (Atlanta, GA: John Knox Press, 1981); R.Y.B. Scott, (New York: Macmillan Publishing Co., 1971); Gerhard von Rad, (Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 1976). 41For a concise summary see James Crenshaw, "Education in Ancient Israel," 104 (1985): 601-15. 42Ecclesiasticus 51:23. 32 43Proverbs 3:19-20. 44Proverbs 1:20ff. 45Proverbs 9:1ff. 46Ecclesiastes 3. 47I Kings 3; 4:29-34, 10. 48I Kings 3:16-28. 49I Kings 3:28. 50This expression and different variations of it are found at hermeneutically significant places in the Wisdom Literature: Proverbs 1:7, 9:10; Ecclesiastes 12:13; Job 28:28. 51Gerhard von Rad, (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1976), 67. From a Greek perspective, note Plato: "Without having a vision of this Form [the Good] no one can act with wisdom, either in his own life or in matters of state." , trans by Francis Cornford (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1945), VII: 517, (p. 231). 52I Kings 3:4-15. 53A salient modern example of a fool in the biblical sense would be Hermann Goering who had an extremely high IQ- bordering on genius-but was a barbarian in moral judgment. 54Ecclesiastes 12:13; Job 28:28, 42:1-6. 55Job 38-39. 56Such a view is almost totally absent from modernity's pursuit of knowledge. George Grant accounts for the demise of wonder in modern science as due to the increasing emphasis on power. See Technology and Empire (Toronto: 33 Anansi Press, 1969), 116. 57John 1:14. 58John 13. 59Note the repetition of the verb ginvskv in John 13:1,3. 60Note the two terms in the Christological hymn of Philippians 2: morjh Qeou (2:5) and morjh doulou (2:7). I am indebted to a friend, Andy Desroches, for pointing out the importance of this juxtaposition. The relevance is obvious: Paul's stress is not theological (kenotic theories, etc., dealing with ontological matters) but practical: How did God appear in human history when he finally came? What did he do? What did he use his God-hood for? How should we therefore respond? 611 Corinthians 8:1. 622 Timothy 3:7. 63Romans 13:8; 1 Timothy 1:5. 64Cited in Michael Downey, (San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1986), 30. 65Michael Rouze, "The Tree of Knowledge," in , trans by Patrick Evans (Suffolk: Richard Clay & Co., 1962), 141. 66Miller, , 139-40. 34