Why Christian Higher Education Exists: A Case for Introducing the Liberal Arts in First Year Seminars

Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal Vol. 19, No. 2 (Fall 2020): 44-62

Why Christian Higher Education Exists: A Case for Introducing the Liberal Arts in First Year Seminars

Steven A. Petersheim

When I enrolled in college for the first time, I expected to be inducted immediately into a rich study of “the best that has been thought and said,” under the tutelage of scholars who were daily delving deep in the intellectual treasures of the past and present. 1 I hoped to venture far out into the life of the mind to explore things I had thus far only glimpsed or imagined. As an Amish child and first-generation college student who had been home-schooled for high school, I did not have a close network of experienced peoples to prepare me for what was to come. I relied heavily upon what I had learned in books, where I had encountered great thinkers and writers who inspired me to relish the goodness, beauty, and truth to be found in the world around me even while alerting me to the evil, ugliness, and deception waiting to sweep me up as well. The world of higher education was a tantalizing riddle that I eagerly wished to unravel. I enrolled in college to enter more deeply into the imaginative and intellectual life of the mind to be found in the great expanse of humanity across time and space as well as in the present. Here I would seek out answers to all of my questions and observations about the great big world around me. But it was not until I began taking literature classes that I finally found some of the mind-bending, soul-feeding discussions I had been expecting from higher education. One professor in particular evoked the big questions about reality, the meaning of life, human purpose, the belief structures of society and civilization, human flourishing, truth, and God. A self-avowed atheistic Jew whose practical agnosticism showed itself in the questions he asked as well as in his observation of Passover despite his lack of belief, Dr. Schlegel renewed my desire for deeper knowledge and understanding of the human condition. His study of literature as a site of engagement with the big questions of life captured my imagination and engaged my intellect, and he eventually convinced me to add English as a second major though I had very little sense of what I might do with an English degree at the time. I only knew that the texts and conversations in literature classes whetted my appetite for greater understanding of the ultimate meaning of human life. Unfortunately, undergraduate students typically have too few opportunities or experiences that inspire them to pursue ultimate questions that arise from the kind of deep thinking and learning traditionally encouraged by the liberal arts. Yet the whole project of higher education begins to crumble when its basis in the liberal arts is seriously undermined. No longer is college a place of holistic learning for many students; it is simply a hoop to be jumped through

before gaining full-time employment. Many institutions of higher education have turned their attention almost exclusively to measures of job placement upon graduation rather than emphasizing the educational experience itself. Yet if it is reduced to a credentialing program for specific jobs, a college education offers little more than vocational training with a few odd classes tacked on and with a higher cost in time and money. The focus on job preparation being touted by public and private institutions as well as by other voices in our students’ lives can make it seem a daunting task to inspire students with the big picture of a liberal arts education. But it is an essential task in a Christian institution attempting to offer something unique and truly valuable in the landscape of higher education. Some institutions are better positioned than others to address such questions of life purpose and meaning. Having taught and been taught in both public and Christian institutions, I believe that Christian liberal arts institutions and programs are uniquely situated to provide a holistic experience that regularly engages such questions. Yet the holistic vision of learning offered by the Christian liberal arts cannot merely be tacked onto the end of a college education when students have already settled into a routine and have their sights set on a degree as their ticket to the next stage of life. In light of these observations, I propose that we introduce the liberal arts in a first-year-seminar that inducts students into college life by engaging them directly in the study of a Christian rationale for the liberal arts and higher education. While such a seminar cannot be the only component of a Christian liberal arts education, it can set the tone for valuing the development of the intellect and imagination in the context of a Christian community.

Promises and Problems of the Liberal Arts

As we consider the role of the liberal arts in Christian education, it is worth remembering how the liberal arts came to be. Traditionally, the project of higher education was focused on the study of theology as the key to understanding the mysteries of this world and the world to come. As “the queen of the sciences” (or, of learning), theology was the starting point for consideration of the world at large. The liberal arts were conceived of as branches of learning extending from the trunk of theology. In the western world, theology was intertwined with classical thinking of the ancient world to develop a study of the quadrivium (arithmetic, geometry, music, astronomy), which was itself built upon the trivium (grammar, logic, rhetoric). Sociologist Richard Roberts describes the secularization of learning and society as “the long and sometimes torturous relinquishment of the central role of theology” and suggests that in modern secular society “sociology understood in terms of ‘grand theory’ may plausibly be viewed in a certain sense as the successor to theology as ‘queen of the sciences’” (190). Whether or not sociology is taken to be the new “queen” of learning, having a common source of ultimate understanding did—and in some cases still does—provide the framework for a coherent understanding of the world.

In Renaissance Europe, the trivium was modified into the study of the humanities with the addition of more specialized areas of study such as history and poetry, and the liberal arts eventually became roughly synonymous with the humanities. The quadrivium also expanded, but remained centered on mathematics and the sciences. Even today, the arts and sciences serve as the basis for many institutions of higher education in America—whether or not they consider themselves liberal arts institutions. The democratization of education over the past two centuries in America and elsewhere has brought to a large swath of society what had long been considered an elitist undertaking, descending from the classical artes liberales, or “arts” for the “liber-ated” free man and citizen possessed of sufficient goods and time for such an endeavor. 2 With the democratization of higher education, however, the kind of training linked directly to a job was added to the project of higher education alongside other training programs such as apprenticeships, guilds, trade schools and vocational schools, or direct training by an employer. “What can you do with that degree?” This simple question has become more trenchant as the distinctive role of colleges and universities have moved to include more professional schools and a more job-related rationale for their educational programs. This question also belies a conception of higher education as a utilitarian and consumerist undertaking. It is utilitarian because it is focused primarily on the usefulness of the degree. It is consumerist because it is focused on financial impact of the degree that is received rather than on the educational capacities that are shaping the student as a whole person. Most often this question is asked of students pursuing a degree in programs dedicated to delivering a liberal arts education.

Despite changes between traditional and modern concepts of education, there is much continuity as well. Whether in the manner of the symposia of ancient Greece where a speaker or performer engaged his audience through public talks or presentations or in the similitude of medieval scribes laboring over manuscripts in scriptoriums, we continue to follow some of the learning practices and areas of study that preceded us. As Andrew Delbanco notes, “sometimes old [educational ideas], such as the Socratic idea that learning is a collaborative rather than a solitary process, can take new form. That is what happened when the Christian idea of monastic community evolved into the idea of college as a place where students live as well as learn together” (53). Such an interlinked perspective of learning and living has remained integral to the liberal arts with its holistic perspective of the learner in her world. Colleges and universities today continue to find ways to house, share, study, and apply the learning of those who have come before us. In contradistinction to more comprehensive universities that offer all kinds of training, liberal arts colleges are largely dedicated to the pursuit of learning for its own sake. Learning is an end in itself. To become an educated person is a worthy object. As opposed to training in the professions or in trades, the liberal arts inculcate a view of intellectual work as its own end rather than as a means to an end. This point was made in the nineteenth century by John Henry Newman,

who notes that “liberal knowledge, which stands on its own pretentions, which is independent of sequel, expects no complement, refuses to be informed (as it is called) by any end, or absorbed into any art, in order duly to present itself to our contemplation” (81). Over a century later, David Breneman similarly described liberal arts colleges as “single-purpose institutions, with no rationale for their existence beyond their capacity to educate undergraduate students.”3 In a more recent scathing critique of the ways higher education has been abandoning its roots in the liberal arts, Anthony Kronman of Yale University notes that the liberal arts accentuate “questions of meaning and purpose that transcend the narrowly vocational” and view education as a good in itself: “It is not preparation for this job or that, for one career rather than another. It is preparation for the ‘job’ of living, which of course is not a job at all” (41). Further, Kronman declares, “a liberal arts education, and the humanities in particular… give young people the opportunity to put themselves—their values and commitments—into a critical perspective. They help students gain some distance, incomplete though it must be, on their younger selves and to get some greater traction in the enterprise of living the lives they mean to live and not just those in which they happen by accident to find themselves” (147). 4 Another former Ivy League educator critiques the ways upper-tier institutions of higher education have been failing in their educational mission, pointing to the “second-tier” liberal arts college as the place where “college is still college,” where “teaching and the humanities are still accorded pride of place,” and where students can still expect a “mind-expanding, soul-enriching experience” of education” (Deresiewicz ). What these descriptions of the liberal arts share is the conviction that education is a holistic experience of personal development rather than a means of specific job-training. Learning itself is good. But this relish of learning itself does not mean there are no benefits other than learning itself. The skills that are learned—often referred to as “soft skills” or “transferable skills”—include critical and creative thinking, communication skills, people skills, problem solving, research skills, office skills, leadership skills, and more. Wellesley College, a long-established liberal arts college, describes its value by noting that “disciplined thinking, refined judgment, creative synthesis, and collaborative dynamic…are not only crucial to developing [students’] leadership abilities, but are habits of mind that will serve them well throughout their lives, and be primary contributors to their success” (“The Value”). Similarly, the liberal arts student at Princeton is promised: “you will learn to read critically, write cogently and think broadly…. A liberal arts education challenges you to consider not only how to solve problems, but also trains you to ask which problems to solve and why, preparing you for positions of leadership and a life of service to the nation and to all of humanity” (“What Does Liberal Arts Mean?”). Underlying this statement and many others like it in the promotional materials of institutions that showcase the liberal arts is the belief that being an adept learner will make students’ lives more meaningful and their work more outstanding— regardless of what vocation they pursue. In his book-length study on why students do and should choose the liberal arts, Mark William Roche describes the skills obtained as follows: “the ability to

listen, analyze, weigh evidence, and articulate a complex view” (52). In addition to honing their critical and creative skills, Roche points to the higher level of cultural literacy gained by liberal arts students as a direct benefit of liberal arts study: “Familiar with the enduring achievements of diverse cultures, the liberal arts graduate is at home in a world of ideas” (52). Reading and discussing a wide variety of enduring texts and ideas gives students the wherewithal “to communicate clearly, think critically, and solve complicated problems; the capacity to draw on a breadth of knowledge while patiently focusing on appropriate details; the savvy to appreciate difference, complexity, and ambiguity; and the desire to continue to learn are all fostered in the liberal arts setting” (5253). Students are guided through the process of cultivating learning skills and increasing cultural literacy in a liberal arts environment. Many liberal arts schools also promote the development of citizenship values, whether seeing their students as leaders or engaged citizens who are committed to the common good. The Association of American Colleges & Universities describes its main purpose in terms of “excellence in undergraduate education in service to democracy.” One private liberal arts college president highlights the goal of liberal arts colleges “to prepare students not only for lives of thought and work but also for lives of civic engagement” (Wiewel). This focus on civic engagement often takes the form of service learning and correlates with a link between liberal arts and civic engagement that has been uncovered by a National Endowment for the Arts study. According to this study, one’s dedication to civic engagement correlates strongly with one’s dedication to literary reading, the kind of reading that is emphasized in liberal arts programs. 5 In terms of personal development, communication skills, problem-solving skills, and civic engagement, then, learning is good and has good consequences. In recent years, however, the number of liberal arts degrees have decreased—dramatically, in some cases. One study found that between 2007 and 2016, the liberal arts and humanities saw decreases of around 15% (philosophy and religious studies) to 25% (history); during the same period the number of degrees awarded in all majors increased by 31% (Schneider and Sigelman 5). In light of such developments, administrators have repeatedly suggested that the liberal arts need to be cut from the curriculum or at least reconstituted within the curriculum. The University of Wisconsin offers a telling example of how universities are responding to such shifts. Once considered a leading proponent for the liberal arts, the University of Wisconsin system has seen its liberal arts mission at risk ever since the legislative events of 2015. As Adam Harris observed in The Atlantic, this was the year when the governor’s office issued a budget proposal that failed to mention the “search for truth” that had long been the ground of the liberal-arts-based “Wisconsin Idea,” issuing instead a statement about the obligation of higher education to “meet the state’s workplace needs.” While this wording was revised amid public outcry, recent restructuring plans at Stevens Point campus indicates that there has indeed been a decreased commitment to the liberal arts in the UW system. In response to announced budget cuts, liberal arts majors such as geography, French, and history were to be eliminated despite strong criticism. Lee Willis, chair of the history department,

spoke for many in the liberal arts when he said, “I feel like the liberal arts are sort of being asked to line up behind job preparation…rather than studying the liberal arts for the liberal arts’ sake as a public good” (Harris). Greg Summers, the environmental historian turned provost who presided over these planned changes, took a different view. For him, the proposed elimination of liberal arts majors was not about the elimination of the liberal arts. Summers argued that through the general education program, the liberal arts would play a “much broader and more vital role” than the majors had. 6 While the planned cuts were since abandoned, this change of course only happened after voluntary retirements and a reduction in the number of faculty and staff as a number of them found new jobs elsewhere. Later it was reported that these projected cuts had not been “about financial exigency” as much as about “Stevens Point trying to position itself as a destination campus ahead of projected enrollment declines across Wisconsin” (Flaherty). What this story suggests is that while budget problems may indeed provide the public rationale for eliminated programs, the actual reasons may be different. In part, the lack of administrative support for the liberal arts may be a response to changed public perceptions about the role of higher education—a shift in focus from the formation of well-educated, well-rounded citizens to the production of credentialed individuals. The secular academy may well be responding to the fissures in American public life, where polarizing views have gained the ascendancy and militate against any agreement on what constitutes the common good. Such fragmentation of society has surely made it more challenging to formulate and maintain a coherent and compelling mission. The university, it is often said, has become a multiversity. And while such a concept at first glance may seem to be full of the rich diversity of human experience, it has too often devolved into silos of learning or tribes of identities that do not even attempt to find a unifying vision for the project of higher education as a common good. Fields of learning have become the domain of experts, with the result that the liberally educated student is frequently sidelined by the rise of a new autocrat—the expert. Liz Coleman, former president of a private liberal arts college in Vermont, relates her experience of meeting with educators from Eastern Europe and Russia when the Soviet Union dissolved and these educators turned to the liberal arts as a vision for transforming their institutions from sites of propaganda into sites of true education. With chagrin she realized that the Western educators gathered in the room as advisors for these newly free educators had lost much of the vision for higher education as a common good of society. And much of this loss she traces to a changed focus. Over and against the holistic development of the student for the good of society that once animated higher education in the West, she noted that many colleges and universities were focused on the production of technical but disinterested experts who engage in arcane areas of research. “This brew— oversimplifications of civic engagement, idealization of the expert, fragmentation of knowledge, emphasis on technical mastery, neutrality as a condition of academic integrity—is toxic,” Coleman claims, “when it comes to pursuing the vital connections between education and the public good, between intellectual integrity and human freedom, which were at the heart of the challenge posed to

and by my European colleagues.” This departure from the traditional aims of higher education suggests the failure of a vision of the common good. In Coleman’s view, the so-called death of the liberal arts is the result, not the cause, of changed perceptions of the role of higher education in America. Despite the clamor surrounding the end of the liberal arts, issuing in ominous titles such as “The Liberal Arts May Not Survive the 21st Century,” the sense of crisis about the future of the liberal arts is not new. In a study of the state of liberal arts colleges conducted in the early 1990s, David Breneman claims that the “private liberal arts college stands out as one of American society’s greatest success stories,” but he also finds that the literature on the future of the liberal arts college “portrays a nearly unbroken history of concern for its survival” (1). In an article aptly titled “The Continuous Death and Resurrection of the Liberal Arts,” Norman Jones reviews the literature on the history of the liberal arts and delivers a similar verdict: “The death of the ‘liberal arts,’ however defined, is a motif of lament in American higher education. It became a popular leitmotif in the late nineteenth century.” Given that the “crisis” of the liberal arts and the “crisis” of the humanities have been with us for such a long time, perhaps it is time to recognize not only that the liberal arts are resilient but also that they may be more essential than the nay-sayers realize. But these findings also indicate that constant vigilance is required—that there is a perennial need to reiterate the value of the liberal arts study in a world that needs it so much and seems to value it so lightly. Some colleges have taken a completely different approach. Rather than shedding themselves of the liberal arts, they have fully committed themselves to the project of forming well-educated citizens through the liberal arts. St. John’s College in Annapolis and Santa Fe offers an intriguing example. Offering one rigorous program of study, St. John’s immerses all students in the liberal arts. Founded in 1696 as “King William’s School,” a “free” school in the colony of Maryland, St. John’s was rechristened when chartered by the new state of Maryland in 1784. In 1937, “the New Program” was launched, and it remains to this day as the basis of the single program of study at St. John’s. The college describes its program as follows: “At the heart of St. John’s College undergraduate program is a liberal arts curriculum focused on the most important books and ideas of Western civilization. Following a reading list that includes many Great Books, all classes are conducted seminar-style, with faculty facilitating the discussion. Our liberal arts undergraduate program is a truly comprehensive education that is perhaps the most rigorous in America” (St. John’s Undergraduate Program”). Also called “the most contrarian college in America,” St. John’s offers an education that Walter Sterling, dean of its second campus in Santa Fe, describes in these winsome terms: “Education should prepare you for all of your life. It should make you a more thoughtful, reflective, selfpossessed and authentic citizen, lover, partner, parent and member of the global economy” (Bruni). St. John’s is not without its criticisms, even by those who are dedicated to the liberal arts. It is true, for example, that by focusing on a canon of Western civilization, St. John’s is limiting their scope of inquiry. But even if the St. John’s model may need some tweaking, its very existence shows that it is still

possible to shape a curriculum on the idea of delivering the best education possible rather than simply responding to market concerns.

The Virtues of the Christian Liberal Arts

The study of the liberal arts is particularly suited to Christian institutions of higher education that emphasize the integration of faith and learning. Such integration is a key concept woven into the mission statements of many such colleges and universities, and it is generally connected to the idea that all truth is God’s truth and is worthy of study. Christians are called to learn not only for the sake of learning and its intrinsic rewards, or even for the public good (i.e. “civic engagement”) but also because developing the intellect and contributing to the common good are ways of bringing glory to the God who gave us our minds and organized the world in a rational sense, arrayed in all the beautiful diversity of his image-bearers in the world. Yet it is not enough to call simply for some integration of faith and learning or to tout a general belief that God is the author of truth in all of its guises. The Christian liberal arts must develop a thoroughly Christian ethos that knows why the liberal arts are specially suited to Christian faith. The virtues of the liberal arts must coincide with the virtues of Christian faith. And it is my contention that they can do just that in several particular ways—first by pursuing the great questions in relation to the ultimate source of truth and second by inspiring virtuous thought and action. Any campus asking questions of ultimacy is of course forced beyond simplistic thinking about which questions are more significant in an immediate situation. For there is no ultimate that is more ultimate than the God who is the foundation of Christian thought. What is less apparent in the literature is the role of the liberal arts in cultivating virtue. Critical thinking is a much-celebrated intellectual virtue of the liberal arts. And it is certainly cultivated through the liberal arts. But it is not enough. Roche points to the capacity of a liberal arts experience to help students “develop virtues, build character, and gain a sense of vocation, the moral and social purpose of education” (Roche 102). Among the reasons for choosing a liberal arts education Roche offers two related items: “cultivating intellectual and practical virtues” and “forming character.”7 By Roche’s reckoning, we do not rest in the contemplation that higher education invokes but instead we move from contemplation to action—from the liberal arts to the practical arts. Roche accepts Newman’s claim that contemplation is the chief immediate outcome of a liberal arts education, but notes that “only the practical intellect can address problems, such as abject poverty, that challenge human dignity and awaken our sense of duty. Students are called away from the contemplative to the active life, from college to work, in order to address their most basic needs, to develop further through experience, to participate in shaping the world, and to aid in the welfare of others” (51). Like the intellectual virtues, the practical virtues bear witness to what kind of person one is. Reading great texts and questions of the past and present can spark one’s participation in the liberal arts. “The literature and philosophy of earlier eras can

teach us specific virtues that have been neglected in the present but which represent alternatives to the contemporary world. Certain virtues are more prominent in given historical circumstances than in others. Reading older works reminds us of virtues that are less visible today but still of great value” (141). Whether reading of the courage and perseverance of the Odysseus on his journey home, or of the faithful friendship of Sam McGee in The Lord of the Rings, literature of other times and places can indeed show us the value of virtues in a new way. But we may also critique a character or writer for his flaws and still appreciate his virtues. We may find some of Harriet Beecher Stowe’s treatment of race lacking in Uncle Tom’s Cabin while still being struck by the lessons of humility her characters give us. The intellectual virtues are not so far removed from the virtues of character as we might suppose. After all, the life of the mind inevitably feeds the life of action. “For the ancient Greeks,” Roche observes, “education was not only about cognition but also about longing, motivation, and inspiration as well as attaining self-knowledge and developing virtues” (112). The values of citizenship, for example, lead to virtuous action rather than remaining a matter of contemplation. Careful thought and discussion lay the groundwork for understanding what it means to be a good citizen, but virtuous action is necessary if citizenship is to become a reality. The Christian virtues—especially the virtue of charity—add an intensity to the Christian student’s call to virtuous action. Drawing on Pope John Paul, Roche argues that “Love, the highest of all virtues, is embodied in the most elevated form of learning, the love of wisdom, which is often attained in ‘trusting dialogue,’ that is, in a context of social and intellectual friendship” (Roche 114). As the chief Christian virtue, “charity” is an essential part of Christian education. For the Christian, the virtue of charity does not simply modify or reform the project of education. Alasdair MacIntyre describes charity as something “of which Aristotle knew nothing,” adding further that “Charity is not of course, from the biblical view just one more virtue to be added to the list. Its inclusion alters the conception of the good for man in a radical way; for the community in which the good is achieved has to be one of reconciliation…. Every particular view of the virtues is linked to some particular notion of the narrative structure or structures of human life.” MacIntyre postulates further that in the Christian scheme of life, as opposed to Aristotle’s ahistorical scheme, “a central genre is the tale of a quest or journey. Man is essentially in via. The end which he seeks is something which if gained can redeem all that was wrong with his life up to that point” (174-75). Informed by the virtue of charity, the ethos of service afforded by the Christian liberal arts offers more than that available simply through a commitment to an ideal of justice or another of the classical virtues. By introducing charity into the project of learning, the relationships between learners and teachers may be transformed from an exchange of goods to a commitment to each other that is not measured in the language of commerce. The charitable teacher offers her best to the student and to God even if the student never reciprocates, and the charitable student offers his best to the teacher and to God even if the teacher never reciprocates. We are all on a journey, in via of

learning, and charity makes it possible to aid others in the journey rather than simply undertaking it on your own. It is also an act of charity to extend forgiveness and an active hope of restoration toward those who have worked against the common good. While the hope inspired by charity attends to the person in the moment, it is eschatological rather than being tied to the temporal alone. This removes the utilitarian tendencies of even the most noble of the classical virtues, with often unspoken obligations of reciprocity on the part of the offending party. Roche decries a culture in which developing “smart” graduates is the goal. “Is that enough? Aren’t they missing something essential? Religious universities may be freer about engaging issues of formation, but formation is not a question of religion. Regardless of an institution’s affiliation, the overarching question is: are we developing only brains or also persons?” (110). Being smart is not enough. Even serial killers are “smart enough” to figure out how to commit their crime repeatedly without being caught. Only if intelligence is linked to virtuous character development can we feel sure that our learning is for healthy selfdevelopment and the common good. Roche points to the virtues involved in an honest and intense search for truth:

To search for truth is to be engaged in a variety of character virtues. The decision to pursue all evidence even if it should contradict or weaken one’s initial claims is a mark of honesty and integrity. To think an issue through to the point where all angels have been explored and every ramification considered requires discipline and perseverance. A willingness to abandon previous beliefs in the light of more compelling evidence presupposes a capacity for flexibility and self-overcoming and can readily lead to gratitude to others for helping one along in one’s intellectual and moral journey. Taking intellectual risks by exploring paths that have not yet been trodden and thereby sacrificing a much simpler and safer existence is, likewise, a form of civil courage. Patience and striving are both fostered when I recognize that, despite my best efforts to date, my tentative answers to a given puzzle remain inadequate, and I must continue to delve further. (Roche 111)

Yet even if we are convinced of the need to incorporate virtue training in our classes, how would we go about doing so? Roche suggests including virtue formation within the course goals. “A science class might stress some of the virtues of character, such as honesty and integrity, discipline and perseverance, modesty and teamwork, that will be developed in the course of exploring a topic as part of a research team” (166). It would take little adjustment, in many cases, to align at least some of our course objectives with associated virtues. Including virtues in our course objectives would solidify them in our minds and make them evident to our students. A Christian liberal arts college might seem exempt from the threats that face their secular counterparts. For when Christianity is integral to one’s learning,

we might ask, isn’t learning part of one’s ongoing spiritual development regardless of one’s future career? Furthermore, isn’t the Christian willing to sacrifice material goods for the sake of spiritual goods? But Christian liberal arts colleges have not been immune to the pressures faced by other liberal arts colleges and programs. Some of them are every bit as dependent on the goodwill of donors as their more secular peers are. And many donors today earmark their funding for special projects or initiatives with greater visibility rather than simply giving for the cause of education. Some Christian liberal arts institutions, rather than mounting a serious defense of the liberal arts in Christian education, have changed their message to fit the increasingly consumerist culture that permeates American life today. In 2020, for example, more than 200 faculty and staff found their jobs being eliminated at evangelical colleges and universities, with the effects of the COVID-19 pandemic listed as one of multiple financial reasons for these cuts (Adams). But the financial reasons given may not be the primary problem. As in the Wisconsin case, the problem may arise from a failure to sustain the liberal arts mission that is part of its DNA of these institutions. Jeffrey Bilbro, one of the tenured faculty whose position as a faculty member in the department of English is being eliminated, notes, “In my experience, there’s not a straight line between financial pressures and cuts to liberal arts curriculum and programs. But many administrators fixate on certain numbers or goals to the exclusion of a university’s fundamental mission.” While logistical concerns do need to be addressed if an institution is to survive, when logistical matters take precedence the mission of a Christian institution of higher education is compromised. In its simplest terms, the mission of a Christian liberal arts college is to provide a bona fide Christian education which is clearly enabled through a liberal arts model—arguably the best model for a holistic Christian education. A 2018 study by the Cardus Institute revealed that graduates from Christian colleges and universities care more than graduates of other institution about getting a job that “directly helps others” and care less about getting a wellpaying job. Daniel Silliman described this study by saying it “suggests religious schools should emphasize distinctives.” According to Albert Cheng, a professor of educational reform at the University of Arkansas, many Christian schools who “are under pressure to defend their value to both donors and prospective students…make their case in terms of economic impact and spend a lot of tie defending the economic value of a college education but don’t consider other factors.” A majority of students at Christian colleges said they chose “the religious mission mattered to them and functioned in their study” (Silliman). What this suggests is that a college’s Christian liberal arts mission should play a primary role in advancing their appeal to donors and students and those who send them. Roche recalls his own deliberate mission-related choice of college: “My own decision to attend a small liberal arts college was driven by a desire to be in an environment where I could have many discussions that would allow me to develop a capacity for argument, a mastery of the spoken word, and a deeper understanding of the great questions” (Roche 56-57). But whether the student is motivated before or after enrolling in a college, the Christian liberal arts college

owes it to their potential and actual students to share the rich vision for learning that flows from the liberal arts and Christianity.

Inducting Students into the Study of Liberal Arts

Even if we are convinced that the liberal arts fit well with the mission of a Christian college, the question of how and when to engage students in the liberal arts remains a question. Several methods of implementation in Christian liberal arts institutions are typical—thesis or capstone projects, extracurricular options, and the First Year Seminar. While all of these approaches may indeed contribute to the liberal arts program, the First Year Seminar provides a natural starting point at the very beginning of a student’s college career. The typical first-year seminar is all too often seen as a boring and tedious requirement that professors are required to teach, it actually offers a tremendous opportunity for getting students to begin to understand how vital it is to build a self, not just a career. First-Year Seminars that combine an introduction to college life with an introduction to college writing and all that it entails provide an excellent opportunity for students to begin exploring the Christian liberal arts promptly and intentionally. Once established, this approach to learning can create a working rationale from which students can work through their learning experience. Such a course also provides an opportunity for infusing the intellectual virtues with a purpose for learning that includes and transcends the individual. If we awaken and enhance a love of learning within students by combining the pursuit of wisdom with the formation of purpose upon a student’s entry to college, we lay the groundwork for a coherent college education regardless of students’ areas of study. One excellent resource for helping students consider the liberal arts approach to learning at a Christian college is a volume of essays titled Liberal Arts for the Christian Life, assembled and published in 2012 to celebrate and continue the passion for the liberal arts of retiring professor Leland Ryken at Wheaton College. This text is directed toward students, with professors in the liberal arts sharing personal stories and advice to the Christian college student. Like Stanley Hauerwas’s “open letter to young Christians on their way to college,” this collection of essays invites Christian students into the world of higher education and gives them counsel in how to make the most of their time in college. 8 In the lead essay, which began as a chapel address in 1984 that was titled “The Student’s Calling,” Ryken states what Hauerwas also urges upon students—that the student’s calling is to be a learner. “During your college years,” Ryken writes, “being a student is your vocation. That occupation involves more than studying, but studying is by definition its main ingredient” (21-22). In the First-Year Seminar that also serves as a first-year writing course titled “The Great Conversation” at Gordon College where I currently teach, we lead students in discussions rising from the pages of this book and others. It has proven an excellent resource in my classes and elicits conversations that often exceeds my expectations as students dig into the big ideas that are raised by the essays in this book.

Beginning with Leland Ryken’s essay, which appears between the preface and introduction of the book, my students are immediately enthralled by his idea of “the student’s life as a Christian calling” (15). Students have consistently related how much it comforted them to read Ryken’s caution that we “need to stop making students feel guilty about being in a period of preparation” and how much he challenged them with the words directed at them: “The quality of your education is your choice to make” (20, 22). Invariably, however, another student would remind them that he also gives a reason for comprehensive education that is not merely job-focused, either when he quotes Martin Luther’s statement that education can make us “fit for everything” or when he claims that an educational grounding in the liberal arts “prepares people to do well in all that they might be called to do in life” (18-19). This essay provides an excellent entry point for these discussions, whether discussing Jeffrey Greenman’s consideration of what it means to be a faithful student or Sharon Coolidge’s contention that “as your liberal arts education is a step in the process of becoming the person God wants you to be, so learning well is a step in discovering who you are and learning what it means to be a precise and mature thinker” (141). The conversation sparked by Ryken’s essay is continued in the essays of the book. From Professor Jeffry Davis’s essay on “The Countercultural Quest of Christian Liberal Arts” to liberalarts-educated financier John Augustine’s reflection on “Learning for a Lifetime,” these essays speak directly to the undergraduate student in a Christian liberal arts college. This book engages students in the great conversations of the past through discussions of timeless thoughts and writings of Christian thinkers and writers such as St. Augustine, John Milton, Gerard Manley Hopkins, T.S. Eliot, Dorothy Sayers, C.S. Lewis, Henri Nouwen, and many others. One of the most meaningful units in my First Year Seminar consists of discussions from and about the Civil Rights movement. Drawing on texts such as Martin Luther King Jr.’s “Letter from Birmingham Jail” and Fannie Lou Hamer’s speech “We’re On Our Way,” we examine how these leaders used Christian principles and rhetorical strategies to argue for justice for black people in segregated America. We also read and share stories of racial injustice to help us think through the issues further. While any liberal arts college is interested in such timeless values as justice, a Christian liberal arts approach to justice offers the opportunity to consider a particularly Christian vision of justice. At Gordon College, we draw upon the “Shalom Statement” adopted by the college for our understanding of Christian justice. Defined as “a right ordering of relationships and actions resulting in the affirmation of human dignity and the flourishing of community,” shalom designates more than peace, as in the absence of conflict; it is an ideal toward which we aspire and our efforts for justice aim to rectify injustices that result from a failure to live according to “the biblical reality of the Imago Dei, the fact that we are all created in God’s image, and as such are worthy of dignity and respect as persons.”9 Injustice for one is injustice for all. This sense of shalom is linked to Cornelius Plantinga’s description of shalom as a “webbing together of God, humans, and all creation in justice, fulfillment, and delight.” After noting that we are in a fallen state of affairs on planet earth, Plantinga turns to Christian education as a response to our unfortunate distance

from this shalom: “That’s what Christian higher education is for. It’s for shalom. It’s for peace in the sense of wholeness and harmony with the world. It’s for restoring proper relationships with nature and other humans and God, and teaching us to delight in the wonders of creation that remain.”10 By discussing a Christian view of justice, we shift the focus from our own personal or local frameworks to think about the larger picture of justice from God’s perspective of all of us as his beloved creations in a fallen world that he originally created and pronounced “good.” We think about what we might to do bring shallow to ourselves and others who are not experiencing shalom. Many of my students quickly tune in to such discussions, adamantly participating and clearly relishing our consideration of questions that really matter. But one course at the beginning of a student’s college life is not enough to inculcate the values of the liberal arts or to help them develop the ability to “think Christianly.” But I have been surprised by how quickly some of them have tuned in to these discussions, relishing with delight questions that some of them knew they had at the beginning and others realized their souls were responding to as we went along. The approach outlined by Roche at the University of Notre Dame is helpful for applying the liberal arts approach to a larger project. He describes the sophomore-level “College Seminar” in the following terms:

In addition to focusing on the development of students’ oral skills, each College Seminar addresses a great question that students approach by engaging classical and contemporary works in the arts, humanities, and social sciences. In my version of the course, students explore the topic ‘Faith, Doubt, and Reason.’ They read works in philosophy and theology and literature, they attend theater performances, they discuss great films by directors such as Alfred Hitchcock and Woody Allen, they visit the campus art museum, and they read sociological studies of the beliefs of America’s youth and analyses of politics and faith in America today. The range of questions that can be explored, all focusing on this nexus of themes, helps students develop the ability to think bigger thoughts and ask broader questions. They understand, in ways that faculty members have forgotten, that the great questions cannot be parceled out to individual disciplines. (68).

Such a rich component of a liberal arts education could be incorporated into students’ first-year experience or saved for a follow-up experience part-way through their program. Other components of a student’s liberal arts education may also contribute to their holistic experience as students at Christian colleges and universities. Service learning courses or projects, for example, may be shaped with Christian virtues in mind. In many honors programs, the most significant part of a student’s undergraduate college experience comes in the form of a thesis or final project that draws on the individual student’s learning and academic interests. Some college departments also offer capstone courses to give students an opportunity to

develop and celebrate their learning as well. In a liberal arts institution, it would make good sense for these final projects to be designed to incorporate or reflect back on the student’s learning from a liberal arts perspective. In a Christian institution, final projects could also provide students the opportunity to reflect on how their Christian values in a liberal arts context have developed their intellectual and moral virtues and proclivities. As in the case of all robust learning conditions, a variety of experiences is necessary if a student is really to appreciate and integrate the values of Christianity and the liberal arts. The first-year seminar, however, offers an irreplaceable opportunity for inducting them into this world before their experiences of college become weighed down with other ways of thinking about it. Since a liberal arts approach and a Christian understanding of the world are receding in the public consciousness, greeting students at “the door” of their university experience to usher them immediately into the world of the Christian liberal arts is essential if they are to elude the siren call of power-hungry materialist ways of being in this world.

Conclusion: Continuing the Promise of the Christian Liberal Arts

This is no time to back away from a commitment to the liberal arts. Indeed, it may fall to Christian liberal arts colleges and universities to carry along this rich cultural tradition if it fails in other institutions. We are teaching students for life, preparing them for a variety of possible vocations that spring from a Christian intellect rather than training them only for one or two jobs that may not even exist anymore upon graduation. In order to function as actual sites of higher education, our colleges and universities must provide rich engagement with the higher questions that have continued to be asked by students and thinkers throughout history and into the present. When the liberal arts fade from the curriculum, the project of higher education itself changes, often devolving into vocational training, economic and ideological considerations, or some combination of these. In a college landscape that values expediency and a return on college investment, it is past time to reembrace the exceptional qualities of Christian liberal arts institutions and programs. This is not to say that vocational training plays no part in higher education or that finances should be ignored. Instead, a liberal arts college places lesser emphasis on these concerns and greater emphasis on learning itself as something with intrinsic value. Within the framework of the liberal arts, education is a primary—not a secondary—good. Unfortunately, the high sticker price of many liberal arts schools makes it impossible or at least foolish to ignore the financial burden that accompanies the project of higher education. But the primary goals of a liberal arts college or university have to do with becoming broadly educated and developing a holistic approach to learning and living. Without a grounding in the liberal arts, it is hard to justify the value of college in any way that is not ultimately reduced to economic considerations. For the

Christian college student, education is an induction into a life of learning rather than just a path to a degree. In a country whose workforce is dominated by young professionals who lack purpose and struggle for meaning, the Christian liberal arts can offer a refreshing alternative. This kind of education prepares students to serve not just themselves as they enter the workforce, but to serve a God who is actively seeking to restore and redeem the world through his people. While it is important to introduce students to the liberal arts in first year seminars, this will be of limited value without a strong vision for the Christian liberal arts that is apparent to all proponents of the university—including faculty and staff, administrators and board members, donors and students, freshmen and seniors. Articulating and supporting such a vision may renew a commitment to a robust education committed to a student’s holistic development that seeks to integrate rather than divide the branches of learning. For in a Christian liberal arts institution, the purpose of our learning is not limited to vocational training or even civic engagement, important as these may be. The higher purpose of our learning is to know and participate in the goodness, beauty, and truth of the world into which God has placed us.

Notes

1 Unfortunately, I would not even hear—much less debate—Matthew Arnold’s phrase until many years later.

2 Bruce Kimball notes that education in classical times was not available to women or slaves but was reserved for those free citizens who could “participate in governing the city-state, and..the freedom, or leisure, to study, which is afforded by possessing wealth through some fortunate set of circumstances…. The idea of education was therefore constituent in the concept of the free, or liberal citizen” (270).

3 David W. Breneman, Liberal Arts Colleges: Thriving, Surviving, or Endangered? (Washington DC: Brookings Institute, 1994), 4.

4 While I do not wholly agree with Kronman’s suggestions that the research ideal and political correctness are to blame for the failure of vision in many institutions of higher education, nor with his suggestion that embracing secular humanism as a quasi-religion is the way forward, he does offer a poignant diagnosis of the problem of purpose facing higher education.

5 “For literary readers, the volunteer rate is 43%—nearly 3 times greater than for non-readers” (“The Arts and Civic Engagement”). 6 Summers added, as justification: “Too many general-education programs rely on courses that are introductions to liberal arts majors even as they reenroll primarily

nonmajors. This double duty leaves the majority of students wondering why they must take such classes and hoping only to ‘get them out of the way.’… Our aim at UW Stevens Point is to fix this problem, to look beyond a set of majors that serve roughly 6 percent of our students and ask how the disciplines of the liberal arts can better educate everyone” (Summers). 7 These are the chapter titles of Roche’s book Why Choose the Liberal Arts? (Notre Dame, IN: U of Notre Dame Press, 2010).

8 See Stanley Hauerwas, “Go with God: An Open Letter to Young Christians on their Way to College,” First Things, November 2020. https://www.firstthings.com/article/2010/10/go-with-god

9 For the full statement, see “Shalom Statement” at https://www.gordon.edu/shalom.

10 Plantinga has written about this in various places. His words here are taken from “Educating for Shalom: Our Calling as a Christian University,” Calvin University, https://calvin.edu/about/who-we-are/our-calling.html.

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