Why is it that the world of antiquity became antiquated? What is it that separates us from the perspectives of the ancient world which, despite the richness of its philosophical reflections and epic narratives, means there is no easy going back? The answer lies primarily in the Enlightenment of the eighteenth century. Its motto of having the courage to think for oneself (Kant), which still lies at the heart of contemporary education, challenged the assumed authority of tradition. And, significantly, the irruption of this new critical attitude fundamentally altered the way in which people understand themselves.
The world of antiquity was an ordered world: a cosmos. Human beings had their place in a structured creation; they occupied a distinctive niche below angelic beings but above the earth and its other inhabitants. Human purpose and identity were disclosed in this order and in the traditions which conveyed and preserved it. Antiquity, in this manner, afforded a sense of home. The Enlightenment, however, disrupted this safe structure and in its wake created a crisis of human identity. The ‘turn to the subject’ meant that human persons could no longer to be the passive receivers of an understanding of who they were. Rather the human mind distinguishes itself by standing over against the world of objects that it confronts, drawing on the power of reason to structure and shape that world in accordance with its own design and purposes. Consequently, the Enlightenment effectively called on people to express their humanity by becoming manipulators and structurers of the world. They were not to be merely a pre-defined piece that fitted into an already-existing jigsaw defined by tradition; rather they were to construct the puzzle itself. But liberty from a defining structure can only be bought at a price. And the cost was a terrifying openness as to the question of who human beings are. In the words of Dostoyevsky,
“The ant knows the law of the ant hill. The bee knows the law of the beehive…It is only man that does not know his own law”.
To find yourself responsible for the construction of your own identity may be the pinnacle of freedom, but it is also dizzyingly disorientating. Talk of Human 2.0, where technological advancements are integrated into human biology as the next level of a willed human evolution, is only the most recent manifestation of this phenomenon.
Present educational understanding is still shaped by the tectonic shifts of the Enlightenment. What distinguishes an essay worth of a First, rather than an Upper Second, has much to do with the level of independent critical thought displayed. But more deeply, education in its broadest sense is, perhaps, orientated on the task of becoming human in the absence of an agreed blue-print of precisely what that means. For the pursuit of truth is not something safe and detachable from the one who engages in the search. Despite the impression of much so-called ‘hard science’, it is not only the world ‘out there’ which is mysterious and in need of exploration; so too is the self. This exterior search for the truth cannot be separated from an interior quest for the truth of oneself. The laboratory for experiment includes the experimenter.
Chaplains in Higher Education can sometimes appear superfluous. They can seem like the antiquated hangover from a bygone world that has no inherent part to play in the education of today, for is not religious tradition the enemy of independent thought! But in the light of my foregoing remarks this view is revealed as flawed. Education is the human project par excellence. It should concern the welfare, in its deepest sense, of all participants, staff and students alike, as it concerns who we are: and this is a question where theology has much to contribute of value. Only the recent, and one has to add virtually totalitarian influence, of aggressive market economics has masked this underlying truth. The result is a Higher Education system that is in danger of being reduced to a business in which the products it has for sale are dangerously separated from both their producers and consumers. In the selection of a new car much might be at stake, but not one’s own identity (despite the promise of enticing advertisements). In education this is precisely what is at stake. Chaplains may be superfluous in car showrooms, but surely not in a university.
I have used the Enlightenment as an ally, but as a chaplain, as the interpreter of a tradition of faith, I cannot subscribe to the whole of its project. Most particularly I cannot separate God from the task of discovering human identity, nor am I prepared to limit theological reach to human subjectivity, leaving out of account the external world. But I am the heir of this perspective to the extent that I believe that each human person is open and experimental. God does not simply manufacture us complete, or allow us merely to use this life as a trial run at an eternal identity God has already defined. God creates us with open potential. The doctrine of creation suggests that God does not want to be everything. Of course, God holds the created realm in being, but in doing so he supports and woos our freedom. God accompanies us on the journey to becoming ourselves. He respects our decisions, yet by his grace also brings this process of growth to meaningful fulfilment. In accompanying staff and students on their way to the discovery of themselves (and the world) through the process of education, chaplains therefore witness to the presence and interest of God. Our presence supports the quest for truth, both in its outward and inward dimension. Our presence is a sign of what is at stake here. And as such we stand as a warning against the collapse of education into mere economic transaction.
Chaplains are not the champions of a rigid tradition. We cannot be in the business of peddling pre-determined answers. Yet neither do we believe that the search for what it means to be human admits of any and every answer. We thus fit well into the category of a community in search of truth: a university. Education is the highest human endeavour and as such it strains towards what is transcendent; it opens out onto the divine. Our presence as chaplains signals that a university has the potential to be the meeting point of our quest for ourselves and God’s quest for us. Only in this way can it properly lay claim to the universus.
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