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Religious Commitment: a blessing or curse in the teaching of religion?
William Campbell
Teaching Theology and/or Religious Studies used to be a relatively uncomplicated procedure. The impartiality, even the objectivity of the lecturer was not in question. The commitment to a historical and critical approach to the text was paramount. Careful if not precise attention to detail was expected to result in a close convergence in interpretation between the modern scholarly interpretation and the authorial intention of the ancient writer(s). The authority of such interpretations rested on the assumed scholarly objectivity of the lecturer.
Again, in the not too distant past, one could generalize and use such commonplaces as "as we all know", assuming a degree of unanimity in at least some aspects of a common culture. Some of the common assumptions now often appear to us as rather naive, and certainly far from impartial. At the beginning of the twentieth century, it was generally believed that Christianity was the fulfilment of Judaism, and therefore a superior religion, where grace and truth were assumed to be obviously superior to the legalism believed to be endemic in Judaism. This assumption of superiority over one world religion was easily transferable to other world faiths, especially those that seemed most unrelated to the Christian pattern. A religious imperialism tended to place Christianity at the apex of religious development, as the crown of all religion.
In this setting, the teaching of the bible could easily be considered as the communication of absolute truth, impregnable against the assaults of lesser ideologies, whether from secular or religious sources. This privileged stance was probably frequently enhanced by the presence in theology departments of church recognized or affiliated teachers who were able to carry with them into the lecture room, the assured support of the established, or at least one of the mainline, church(es).
The situation in HE is very different today, and the recognition of this makes new demands in teaching. Many of the voluntary colleges have joined in new affiliations to universities where the teaching of religion certainly enjoys not more, but possibly even less, prestige than other Humanities subjects. In such a setting, enthusiasm for one's subject is still vital, but it now has to be a commitment to teach openly and as far as possible, impartially, since neutrality never was a real option.
One's own commitments, whatever they may be, need not be hidden, better to have them out in the open, but they must not detract from honest enquiry. Thus lecturers who have given up or never acquired a religious commitment are perfectly free to teach religion as are those with religious allegiances, but neither may use their own stances to make disciples of their students. Increasingly, it is being recognized that one's own stance, once openly acknowledged, can be a useful component in the teaching process. In feminist approaches to religion, for example, the subjective has been rightly stressed as a vital component. Oddly enough, this feminist awareness is extremely valuable in Pauline studies where the charismatic and other experiences of the apostle's communities constitute a significant element in their theologising.
Another aspect of commitment is often neglected, ignored or even denigrated in teaching. This is the experience, and particularly the experience of religion of the student. Where, as is now often the case, one frequently teaches mature students, we may be dealing with students whose experience of religion, often involving a lifetime of church or other religious activity, has been a major factor in their recruitment to a university course. Theology is a result of reflection upon the experience of religion, and it is a waste of valuable resources if we cannot find ways and means whereby students can critically engage with, and positively build upon, their previous experience of life. If we shy away from discussing personal religious experiences, whether positive or negative, we are depriving students of mature and critical engagement with a significant and formative part of their own history and achievement.
Even in the very recent past, the student's personal commitment has sometimes been viewed as a major obstacle to theological learning, something that has to be overcome before real progress is possible. When one is seeking to be objective, distancing oneself from feelings and emotions must be regarded as entirely beneficial. Of course, fundamentalist tendencies do make students difficult to teach, but this is not an absolute barrier. Good teaching involves starting where students actually are, not where we would like them to be. Honest and open recognition of the student's own religious stance can often lead to mutually beneficial exchanges. At a minimum, it encourages mutual respect and understanding. It is vital for teachers to begin to recognize religious commitment, as well as other acknowledged life stances, as a useful resource, building blocks in both the acquisition and maintenance of a personal identity, and in a good university education. The person with openly acknowledged commitments has a built-in resource for making value-judgements, a measuring line to guide in decision making when facing fresh challenges.
But what about the student who has deep commitment but who is not open? To be open to any ideology may be a virtue, but it may likewise signify a lack of serious thought or a tendency towards indecision. On the other hand, in the teaching of religion, we sometimes meet with students for whom commitment is absolute, for whom the mere consideration of any alternative life-stance is almost equivalent to defection. Very often we will discover that rather than being over-confident, these students are actually fearful of being indoctrinated or misled away from their faith, possibly because their families or religious leaders have warned them of the dangers of critical thinking. If we challenge these students, particularly in the early stages of their course, we may actually reinforce these fears, and the outcome may well be their defection to subjects such as Maths or Business Studies, that appear to them not to be so ideologically threatening.
But what if they remain on the course, but make no effort to consider alternative opinions? Are we then guilty of producing a graduate with a closed mind and a correspondingly poor education? It would, however, be a strange institution of learning that rewarded students for affinity with their teacher's opinions and victimized those disagreeing! Surely a good teacher can reach and teach even the most obstinate student, or is our programme of studies such that we are not confident that it can educate those with strong commitments? Perhaps a fresh look at the courses available, especially the student options, might be called for. It could be argued that an effective course in religion or theology should be of such a nature that all successful graduates from it would necessarily understand the true nature of religious commitment and ideology. Such a course would in my opinion involve both adequate content and appropriate methodology in its teaching. To be too dogmatic in favour of one's own life stance or against competing ideologies is counter-productive, tending to harden convictions rather than to invite participation in dialogue. To provide a balanced curriculum for every student, it may be essential to have some compulsory or core modules to ensure that whilst student freedom to choose is as open as possible, students do not resort to opting only for those courses that they like or that do not challenge their presuppositions.
There can be no substitute for the creation from the beginning of a course, of an atmosphere of tolerant acceptance and the recognition of the rights of the other to hold to a form of religion or ideology that is not practised by, or perhaps even unacceptable to, both the lecturer and the majority of the student group. This includes not only major world religions, but also obscure groups and sects from which a first generation of university students is emerging. We should not presume uniformity either in shared religious experience or even social values. In order to maximise their learning potential, and to attempt to give equal opportunities for development, the differing backgrounds and experiences of students should be taken into consideration. Muslim women may be slow to speak in a group, and non-western religious believers may be entirely unaccustomed to anyone criticizing, or even appearing to be critical of, aspects of their religion. Initially at least, the student may not yet be confident enough to respond to such criticism or to formulate a good retort, but given time and opportunity this should arrive in due course and produce lively discussion, at least in seminars. I have found the creation of a community of shared learning experiences to be one of the most formative and supportive elements in individual student's development, particularly those from a minority religious group.
If we follow this pattern of initially getting to know student's needs and of allowing time for adjustment, at least we can be reasonably confident that those who drop out of our courses will have had a fair opportunity to learn and to participate on an equal basis with the rest of the group. It may also be that whilst most students will mature and grow within the commitments they already hold at course entry, some may outgrow these and decide to change their allegiance. This can be traumatic and destabilize their work pattern. But it may also result in more focused and more enthusiastic involvement with their Religious Studies course.
In conclusion, it ought to be emphasized that only when we value and recognize commitment as a useful resource in teaching religion, can we avoid the misleading assumption that the ideal student is the one without strong commitments and its misleading corollary that the ideal scholar to investigate human religious activity is the one who is not herself committed to any religious belief. My personal opinion is that the ideal graduate in religion is one who is both intellectually and emotionally committed to her chosen life stance, rather than one who is knowledgeable about all possible stances, but committed to none. On a practical note, the recruitment to departments of religion that are known to value both commitment and openness may increase due to the fact that they are more inclusive in approach, offering an opportunity for study to all sections of our society, and not only to a select few.
This page was originally on the website of The Subject Centre for Philosophical and Religious Studies. It was transfered here following the closure of the Subject Centre at the end of 2011.
