Tomorrow’s historians will no doubt pay special attention to the time in which we now live: a season of cut-throat politics, a pandemic that has changed everything, a collective cry for racial justice on American streets and in public discourse, and screaming matches over what we should teach our children in school. Our moment cries out for educated people, for women and men willing to commit themselves to the development of the intellectual and spiritual resources necessary to lead us through the darkness with discernment, conviction, and clear thinking.
This week I started my twentieth year of teaching at Messiah University. I came to Messiah in 2002 after spending two years at Valparaiso University, where I was part of the Lilly Fellows Program in Humanities and the Arts, a postdoctoral program for young scholars interested in pursuing careers at church-related colleges and universities. The founder and director of this program was Mark Schwehn, the author of the 1992 book Exiles from Eden: Religion and the Academic Vocation.
These were formative years for me. At Valparaiso I matured as a teacher, scholar, writer, and thinker. Schwehn’s Exiles from Eden became something close to a sacred text in the Lilly Fellows Program, and it continues to shape my vocation as a Christian professor and scholar. Schwehn taught me that Christian education must center on two concepts: risk and wisdom. Let me explain.
There are times in our lives when we encounter an idea that we have never considered before or that we believe is wrong based upon our previous education, our upbringing and family background, or something we learned growing up in a religious community. Because the person or writer offering this new idea is someone we respect, we conclude that we should take it seriously. As we think more deeply about this idea, we realize that if we believe it to be true, we must integrate it into our view of the world. This means that the idea will change us in some way. It could reorient our understanding of a particular ethical problem. It may force us to reevaluate our politics. It might reshape the way we think about our faith. It could change the very trajectory of our lives.
But if we want to be educated people, we cannot ignore it. Netflix and Hulu, TikToks and Twitter, snaps and texts will try to distract us, but those pursuing an educated life will find a way to avoid the distractions and take an intellectual risk. Such risk-taking requires a willingness to give up part of ourselves for the sake of truth, or a better way. This can be scary, or uncomfortable. It can complicate relationships with those we love. It might have an effect on our friendships. It can be mentally and even physically exhausting, because if we take this exercise seriously we just may lose some sleep. But we must be willing to come out of the comfort of the cave of familiarity and into the light of possibility. Our democracy needs educated people.
This is why the pursuit of wisdom is so important. Schwehn writes, “Self denial [or risk-taking] is the disposition to surrender ourselves for the sake of the better opinion, but wisdom is the discernment of when it is reasonable to do so.” Wisdom is what we need to discern whether we should make a new idea our own.
Theologian Dorothy Bass defines wisdom as “the good judgment someone shows in the face of every dilemma. It is the ability to render a proper assessment of a situation and to act rightly as a result.” For Christians, the first place to look for this kind of wisdom is God. The book of James says that “If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you.” Wisdom is God’s gift to us. So when we are challenged by that new idea, we can take comfort in knowing that God’s grace is always available to guide us.
But to ask God for this kind of wisdom requires a commitment to spiritual disciplines such as prayer, meditation on the scriptures, and fasting, to name a few. When we seamlessly fuse these disciplines with our quest to be educated people, we put into practice Jesus’ command to love God with not just our hearts, souls, and strength, but with our minds.
Wisdom is often cultivated with others. We find it through conversations with advisers, teachers, clergy, family, books, and the texts left behind by women and men who, in the process of their own educations, endured the same kind of risk-taking. Wisdom is forged through conversation with friends about things that matter. Proverbs 27:17 reminds us that “A friendly discussion is as stimulating as the sparks that fly when iron strikes iron” (Living Bible).
In a powerful essay titled “Liberal Learning and Christian Practical Wisdom,” Schwehn turns our attention to chapter six of the Catholic wisdom book Sirach: “Come to her with all your soul, and keep her ways with all your might. Search out and seek [wisdom], and she will become known to you; and when you get hold of her, do not let go. For at last you will find the rest she gives, and she will be changed into joy for you.”
Schwehn then offers a beautiful reflection on this passage that is relevant to all seekers of wisdom. “When you are fully and completely at work in your callings as seekers of wisdom,” he writes, “you will sense intimation of this everlasting joy, foretastes of the feast to come, as it were. In the midst of those small transactions of everyday life, you really will, from time to time, figure something out, discover some part of the truth about the world, catch a fragment of the logos, and see the flicker of light in the darkness. And when this happens, you will have an evanescent sense of deep joy that can be fully known only in eternity.”
As we pursue wisdom we always see through a glass darkly. We will know only in part. But every now and then the light will shine through, and we will get a glimpse of what it is like to see face to face, to know even as we are also known. We will get a taste of shalom, where the brokenness of this world is restored. It will be a place where we don’t have to worry about risk-taking anymore because everything is true and good. But for now we wait, in hope, for that coming Kingdom and we press on in the work before us. Another academic year of taking risks and pursuing wisdom is upon us.
John Fea is Executive Editor at Current. This piece is adapted from his 2021 Messiah University convocation address.
