A mystery:

Given the state of the state run schools, why do Christian schools imitate the failing state system and approaches?

Suggestions:

• Certification of teachers through NCATE
• Control of assessment tools by Progressives
• Financing
• Private schools distinuguish the teaching and curriculum from the governance, thus imitating the former
• Reputation by quantity (i.e. they’re big so we should be like them)

What do you think explains this, to my way of thinking, rather odd fact?

Order is the application of intelligence and will to raw materials. Being decision and commitment, order accepts reality and mortality. In its purest sense, order is the crucifixion of the self with its uncontrolled appetites and desires.

Order is spiritual.

At the human pace
You and I can act and rest,
labour and loaf,
strive and relax.

We can learn
to read,
to work,
to produce,
to grow,
at the human pace

At the human pace
we overcome
anxiety

At the human pace
We hear ancestral voices
calling from afar

When we hear
At the human pace
we hear past reverberating echoes
in our caves

We are still
So the self-reflecting words
are still
And world-creating words
can speak

In the stillness

Owen Barfield was an inkling to whose daughter, Lucy, CS Lewis dedicated The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe.

He was a first class scholar in his own right who was comfortable with Latin, Greek, German, French, and who knows what other languages. I would love to read his book called History in English Words, which he described as a “general and superficial survey of semantic development.” How can that not make your heart melt?

The following quotation comes from another of his books called Poetic Diction: A Study in Meaning.

… the rational principle must be strongly developed in the great poet. Is it necessary to add to this that the scientist, if he has ‘discovered’ anything, must also have discovered it by the right interaction of the rational and poetic principles? Really, there is no distinction between Poetry and Science, as kinds of knowledge, at all. There is only a distinction between bad poetry and bad science.

As a great believer in different kinds of knowledge, I have to pause here and draw a rather technical distinction that you’ll want to skip over to get to the bold text below.

He is looking at the words Poetry and Science as they are used now. He’s describing a very metaphysical mode of knowing that was developed and explained by Coleridge and Shelley in the early 19th century.

What he’s getting at, I think, is that Descartes and Bacon, with their pretensions for the scientific mode of knowing, were off base. The highest forms of knowledge discovered by the poet and the scientist are the same.

These words can and have been used differently, and that can create confusion. These uses pre-date Bacon and Descartes, so they arise from a quest for true knowledge as opposed to Pragmatic utility.

I am referring to the distinctions Dr. James Taylor makes in his masterful opus, Poetic Knowledge, which you need to read if you want to teach knowingly.

He describes four kinds of knowledge as identified in the classical tradition and developed by Thomas Aquinas and others: the poetic (pre-rational, rooted in the senses), the rhetorical (persuasion by evidence), the dialectic (one of two options – beyond a reasonable doubt), and the scientific (absolute certitude – notice that this is not what modern “Science” means).

So in the Classical Christian tradition, there is a distinction between poetic and scientific knowledge, but neither term refers to what the terms poetry and science refer to today.

End of metaphysical digression

Barfield is arguing against the false claims of the scientist (from now on, I’m using the terms in the modern sense) to have some sort of knowledge the poet can’t have. This arises from and relates symbiotically to hubris:

That the two or three experimental sciences, and the two or three hundred specialized lines of inquiry which ape their methods, should have developed the rational out of all proportion to the poetic is indeed an historical fact–and a fact of great importance to a consideration of the last four hundred years of European history. 

A disordering has taken place, he suggests, in European culture and in the European soul.

But to imagine that this tells us anything about the nature of knowledge; to speak of method as though it were a way of knowing instead of a way of testing, this is–instead of looking dispassionately at the historical fact–to wear it like a pair of blinkers.

Modern science, that following on the work of Bacon and Descartes, provides a method for testing theories. It is dialectical and rhetorical, in Taylor’s sense above, but it is not (oh the irony) scientific.

Now, Barfield has a great deal more to say. Poetic Diction is one of those rare books with something jarringly insightful on every page. I am in the process of reading it through quickly, sans reflection, to get something of the gestalt in my head.

But I was prompted to write the foregoing because of a practical matter I am dealing with. Order.

More to the point, filing.

I conclude from my efforts that in a pragmatic world the philosopher will be out of place – unsuited.

The pragmatist orders things for their utility. The question is, “What will I use this for? Then file it accordingly.”

The philosopher, humbling himself before everything he encounters, orders things according to their nature, whether or not he can make use of them.

Happily, sometimes, even frequently, utility and nature overlap. Of course, as a would-be philosopher, I cling to the hope that in the end they overlap perfectly. What creates the disruption is false perceptions of utility, which lead to false perceptions of reality. But sometimes they overlap even in the immediate.

For example, businesses are, by nature, Pragmatic concerns. Their purpose is to produce results. They measure those results with a rather reductionist but quite powerful proxy called “cash.”

So the business, living in a realm dominated by conventions, don’t have to worry much about contradicting nature. They can ignore it almost completely. It’s natural for them to do so. (oh the irony)

Thus busines files can be ordered by utility pretty completely.

But schools are different. They are not Pragmatic institutions measured by an abstraction. They are, by nature, philosophical institutions of the highest order, requiring more wisdom than any other institution except the family. That is probably why most of them become not-for-profits.

A business model may help a school succeed as a business, but it runs the risk of destroying it as a school.   

However, since the late 19th century, schools have been trying to operate pragmatically. For example, much of the practice of the modern school arises from scientific management and factories.

The bell, for example, at the beginning and end of 50 minute sessions. Who would do that to a child? Who would believe that a child could learn best in that setting? What an unnatural way to order things!

It didn’t matter. Schools had become institutions for utility, not for education. Please note the distinction, as it cuts to the heart of our failure as a nation to educate our children.

Another clear example of Pragmatics overthrowing truth in schools jumps out with the curriculum and the way it is ordered.

The arrangement of classes simply doesn’t lead to discoveries of truth. I say that not based on some party conviction, but on the constant statements of high school and college students that I talk to, like:

• “You say that because you are X”
• “We have to agree to disagree”
• “That’s your opinion”
• “That’s true for you”

What all of these and so many more statements share in common is that they confess one thing: You can’t know the truth.

These deeply felt convictions arise, not from philosophical persuasion, but from being formed by a structure that doesn’t lead to truth (and also from a resistance to submitting to truth).

When students are assessed, the assessors don’t ask whether they can see truth better or whether they are more free than they were at the beginning of the lesson. All too frequently, they ask where they perform in an abstract exercise against an abstract group of people so they can, at best, determine whether to move them along the assembly line.

I saw a commercial for one of those nationwide colleges like University of Phoenix or LaSalle or something like that. The graduate talked about how much she valued it because it gave her a certification from an accredited institution.

Abstractions like certification and accreditation have replaced practical, concrete virtues like wisdom.

This is a cancer that eats at our cultural soul. What kind of adult student would freely subject herself to a process whose highest virtue is that it “certifies” her. What kind of a school would make that what they advertise? What kind of a society would value it so disproportionately and uncritically?

Answer: a Pragmatic society; which is a synonym for a soulless society.

So I’m trying to file my papers without eliminating my soul. I guess I just don’t fit.

=========================================================================

Suggested resources:

Poetic Knowledge, Dr. James Taylor
Poetic Diction, Owen Barfield
File… Don’t Pile, Pat Dorff

A quick report for those who love us and then an announcement about the 2010 conference:

In our year-end drive to raise $50,000 we are doing pretty well. So far, we’ve received $16,000 total, $8000 in donations and another $8000 pledged for the conference.

That’s a big help. Year end is always a challenge for small non-profs, so I have to say as fervently as words allow me how very thankful I am to those of you who have given or pledged resources.

Another $7000 by year end will enable us to enter the new year without taking on any new debt.

And we are happy to receive donations of any size.

So happy, in fact, that no matter how much you donate to raising children able to function as free citizens of our country, we will give you a link to download a whole bunch of CD’s from our conferences – and these are some of the best talks to come out of the CiRCE conference.

In 2010 we plan on convening in Dallas on July 15-17. Our theme is a Contemplation of Liberty and we’ll explore the role of education and our schools in remaining a free people.

Free people and slaves are taught differently. Which do our schools follow?

Free people and slaves are assessed differently. How do our schools assess?

Free people and slaves think differently. How are we teaching our students to think?

I hope you’ll come join us in July. If you or your school would like to sponsor the conference, please E-mail me (I’d say call me, but am reluctant to post my phone number here. I’ll call you when I receive your E-mail; akern@circeinstitute.org).

Keep your eyes open for an announcement about super discounter super early registrations!

To donate and download the free MP3’s, click the dark red banner to the left.

And finally, later today or at least by Monday we’ll be posting the special Christmas CD set with talks from the conferences on the meaning of the incarnation.

For all you have meant to and done for CiRCE (and me): THANK YOU. A thousand thank yous!

When St. Paul was nearing the end of his earthly pilgrimage and sat in a Roman prison awaiting word on his fate, he wrote one last letter to a young man whom he had mentored and given authority over the church in Ephesus.

The mother of our Lord, Mary, had only recently ended her own earthly journey in this very city. It would seem that Timothy, St. Paul’s understudy, would have known her well and honored her.

St. Paul was about to die and he knew it. So he wrote to Timothy and it is one of the most intimate epistles in the Bible and from the ancient world.

Here is some of what he said:

God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind.

Therefore do not be ashamed of the testimony of our Lord, nor of me His prisoner, but share with me in the sufferings for the gospel according to the power of God,

who has saved us and called us with a holy calling,

not according to our works, but according to his own purpose and grace which was given to us in Christ Jesus before time began,

but has now been revealed by the appearing of our Savior Jesus Christ, who has abolished death and brought life and immortality to light through the gospel,

to which I was appointed a preacher, an apostle, and a teacher of the Gentiles.

For this reason I also suffer these things; nevertheless I am not ashamed,

for I know whom I have believed and am persuaded that He is able to keep what I have committed to Him until that Day.

Flowing through all these words is the theme of the first verse I quoted: fear leads to an unsound mind. And nothing leads to more fear and therefore unsoundness of mind than the fear of death and its corrollary, the fear of suffering.

I have a hard time believing St. Paul enjoyed suffering. That masochistic mindset is itself an over-reaction to the fear of suffering and death and arises from an infirm mind. But he was certainly no stranger to suffering.

Read I and II Corinthians where he describes his sleepless nights, his hunger, his scourgings, and even his anxieties.

If he had enjoyed all this suffering, it would not have been suffering.

But he endured it – and he endured it with a spirit ”of power of love and of a sound mind.” 

How can this be? Verse 12 begins with the words, “For this reason I also suffer these things, nevertheless I am not ashamed.” So maybe we should use the cue “For this reason” and find out what reason he is talking about.

The previous verse tell us that he was appointed a preacher, an apostle, and a teacher of the Gentiles. So perhaps that is why he suffers without shame. It’s his job.

Only, verse 11 is not a complete thought. It begins with the prepositional phrase “To which,” and the second word in that phrase is a pronoun.

As you well know,a pronoun stands in for a noun, so if we are going to understand St. Paul’s strength, we are going to have to go back further and see what the “To which” is to-whiching.

End of verse 10: The gospel.

He was appointed an apostle of the gospel. So what’s the gospel.

Of course, everybody knows the answer to that, so at this point we can stop our exegesis and practice some eisegesis (we can switch from drawing meaning out of the text to reading meaning into it).

But wait. I’m not comfortable doing that, so, if you don’t mind, I’m going to continue to reverse engineer this passage and see what led Paul to mention the gospel.

The previous clause says, “who has abolished death and brought life and immortality to light through the gospel.”

Now we’re getting to it!

Now we have something that we’ll have to think about for a long, long time before we can pretend to understand it. It’s a phrase that challenges some of our expectations and assumptions.

Here is St. Paul, in prison, suffering, even dying day by day, having been betrayed and forsaken even by friends, having watched Stephen lose his life (i.e. experience death) and also having known many, many Christians who died, some of whom, I would presume, he himself arrested. Yet here he says “who has abolished death.”

Does he mean anything by this?

Obviously he does, but he doesn’t explain it here. He expects Timothy either to know what he means or to take the trouble to think about it.

Then he goes on to say that whoever abolished death also “brought life and immortality to light.” Now, if he brought life to light, the implication is that previously it was hidden in darkness. Prior to this “who,” people didn’t actually know what life and immortality were. Now, through the gospel, this “who” has brought them to light – has made them, pardon the awkward word, perceivable.

Maybe that gives us a clue about what abolishing death involved. Maybe death was in the dark too. In other words, maybe before “who” came, people didn’t understand either death or life.

Read the Iliad and the Odyssey and you sure get that impression. Achilles was driven by the quest for glory, honor, and immortality. 

But he pursued them like a blind squirrel after a nut. He had power, of a sort, but he lacked love and he certainly did not have a sound mind. I would argue that he was driven by a spirit of fear.

Not Paul. Notice, there is no unease in his letter. There is no hyperness or over-reaction. He doesn’t just say positive things to himself to keep his spirits up. He knows whom he has believed!

And whom he has believed he does not hide from us. The previous clause says this:

But has now been revealed by the appearing of our Savior Jesus Christ

Our Savior, Jesus Christ. I’d be surprised if you’re surprised here, but don’t let the identification slide past you because it was so obvious. Our savior, Jesus Christ is the one who abolished death and brought life and immortality to light.

That’s not really something the importance of which you can minimize.

Many years ago I wrote some truly horrible poems. About 30 or 40 of them. I showed them a few years later to a college professor friend of mine who encouraged me to focus on the sciences.

What came out of our tear stained brawl was that I hadn’t said anything new in my poems. The poems were an exercise in self-indulgence or maybe a little experiment to see if I could use the form, but they didn’t merit being read by anybody else.

 I hadn’t shed any light on the things I was writing about.

A worthy poem is one that reveals truth about something, leads us to better perceive some reality. A good poem will enable us to perceive something good. A great poem will enlighten us to see something great.

The greatest poems will enable us to see the greatest things – the hardest things to see.

The greatest of all poems is “the appearing of our Savior Jesus Christ” because it brought to light the greatest of all things: life and immortality.

To grasp what this implies, you need to read back one more verse:

Who has saved us and called us with a holy calling, not according to our works, but according to His own purpose and grace which was given to us in Christ Jesus before time began, but has now been revealed…

Not only did Christ Jesus bring life and immortality to light, but he also, by appearing, revealed God’s “purpose and grace which was given us in Christ Jesus.”

The magic words are “in Christ Jesus.” To St. Paul everything is in Christ Jesus. Nothing outside of Christ Jesus is worth having, but then all things are in Him and all things have been given to those in Him. Especially life and immortality.

Christ is, after all, the resurrection and the life.

But He’s going to change the way you think about life and immortality – and death. Because what Paul is saying implies that we have been thinking about them all wrong until Christ came.

I have to ask: if you are a Christian, do you think differently about life and death than you would if you were not a Christian?

If you are not a Christian, do you feel like you have any comprehension of what life and immortality are?

This is a Christmas post, you see.

A real Christmas post. Kitschless. No sentimentality.

When Jesus lay in the womb of His blessed mother, she became the burning bush that was not consumed. God inhabited her womb. That was how life came to us.

She gave birth to Him in a cave and laid Him in a manger. It was unpleasant, cold at night, shameful.

She suffered so much that Simeon told her that a sword would pierce through her soul.

But she had no spirit of fear, but a spirit of power, of love, and of a sound mind.

Christmas has become our national holiday because we can avoid the blood of Easter. It’s sentimentalized because a bloodless baby and a very clean mother are easy to keep out of your heart. kitsch dominates because too few dare raise it even to the level of Camp.

While I have to stop, I have much more to say about this: Christmas is what it is because the American Christian wants his religion without pain.

I can relate to that.

Thanks for reading such a long post. Time to wake up.

I need to know what people think of Krauthammer’s claim that the EPA has taken on more intrusive authority than any governmental agency since the IRS. Please don’t bother with the ad hominems. I want to hear responses to his claims.

This issue matters.

I really like being a Christian, and I could list quite a few reasons for that affection, none of which could come under the heading: Because it is easy.

In fact, by no means my favorite thing about being a Christian, but one thing I like a lot, is that the Firstborn, He who laid down the principles and revealed the doctrines of the faith, made a point of forcing His followers to think. Like adults.

As a result, while some Christian communities have certainly opposed the effort, I have always found a great liberty to think closely and carefully about – well, everything.

Take politics, for example.

There is no “Christian” theory of politics. Should we have a king? Well, God always intended to give Israel one, so it must be OK.

Or should we be a republic? Calvin sure seemed to lean that way.

I could go on and on with the options, but the great thing is, Christianity is not a religion of abstract speculation. If there is a political principle to the Bible it would seem to be summed up in one or two words, “adaptation,” or “sensitivity.”

Maybe an even better word would be reverence.

So no Christian can point to either the Bible or their own tradition and say, “This is the divinely inspired form of government that we should incorporate on earth.”

Good thing too, because if the Bible did say that, people would bloody each other to make it happen. In fact, I think too much attention paid to forms of government distracts people from the principles of sound politics, the core of which is the question: How can we produce virtuous citizens, in this time and in this place.

I got thinking about this joyful lightness of responsible thought while reading about the Swiss vote to outlaw minarets in this article. The connection may not be obvious, but that’s because my mind leaps for joy sometimes.

A few days ago I mildly criticized kitschmas. One of the points I made was that kitsch doesn’t measure up to Camp because Camp tries to be serious while kitsch doesn’t even bother.

Thus, it seems, Camp can give us a strange sort of just pleasure in that we can get the point even while the producer of the Camp doesn’t, while kitsch only gives us pleasure if we are the ones missing the point. Maybe.

So I’ve been thinking a little since then about why Christmas tends toward kitsch.

Let me draw an incident from my life and see if this serves any purpose. The church I attend now celebrates communion on Christmas morning at 9:30, same time as Sunday morning.

No church I attended previously did so; at least, not so far as I recall.

So we weren’t in the habit, as a family, of going to church to celebrate the birth of Christ. We did it at home with cinammon rolls, ostentatiously wrapped gifts, a tree out of Thomas Kincade or Currier and Ives, and all the normal Christmas trappings.

What, Karen asked me, are we going to do this year?  

I found myself immediately confronted with a rather ironic situation. Would we go to church to celebrate communion on Christ-Mass, or would we stay home and celebrate Christ-Mass with our family.

You might ask, is Christmas a family holiday or a Church holiday?

Suddenly I realized that all my life I had been treating Christmas as a semi-secular holiday, personalized, oriented toward the family.

What do you think? Is that appropriate? Do you think that tendency might move us toward kitsch because we want the holiday for our sake, rather than for the sake of the One who dwells in unapproachable light but veiled Himself with flesh and blood?

Some Christians are hesitant about going back to the classical authors and theorists for fear of becoming ancient pagans. I understand that hesitation, but have had to ask myself some tough questions.

Especially this: Where do we get our education practices?

Where is the bell in the Bible? Where the classroom? emphasis on fun/entertainment? recess? certification? accreditation?

Where do these things come from? What about our teaching methods?

My argument is simply that the classical educators were much more Biblical than most Christian schools.

Here’s another question: is education by its nature feudal, capitalistic, socialistic or something else? Why?

And here’s one specifically for classical educators: are we exaggerating the power of “associative” theories of memory in the grammar stage and are we using behavioral approaches to teaching and epistemology (theories of knowledge)?

Important questions, I think.  What do you think?