Elite Universities Are beyond Repair
Written by Andrew T. Walker |
Wednesday, May 15, 2024
In recent months, I was invited to speak at a law school on the subject of religious liberty. My host—a progressive, but an old-school free-speech progressive—warned me: “It’s up to you, but I would stay away from anything related to LGBT issues or Israel. I’ll be frank with you: If you bring those issues up, a group of ultra-woke students will go insane.”
I appreciated the warning, genuinely. I did not intend to bring those issues up, but knowing what could happen if I did was helpful. Nonetheless, it was mystifying to receive a warning of this type. I could never envision telling a guest speaker who did not share my students’ views to be prepared for an intellectual tantrum.
I raise this episode alongside the ongoing story playing out at our nation’s most elite institutions surrounding the Israel-Hamas conflict. What is playing out across America’s most prestigious universities (and fanning out to many other universities in general) is morally deplorable and deserving of the highest condemnation. In what can be described as reminiscent of events from 1930s Germany, students at these universities are taunting, harassing, and invoking genocidal language against Jews. Faculty are, of course, aiding and abetting this foolishness. Defenses of Hamas are made. Behold the product of a generational effort to mainstream Critical Social Justice.
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The Tragedy of Teaching: Greatness without Goodness
Written by Larry G. Locke |
Monday, September 2, 2024
The Bible never instructs believers to emulate God in His greatness. God’s metaphysical attributes are exclusive to Him. Self-preservation would invite us to believe that divine greatness is only safe in the hands of a being with divine goodness. Our ersatz C.S. Lewis would argue that the same relationship of goodness and greatness should apply to the students we educate. If we want to train them to be great, we must also train them to be good. The greater level of moral goodness we can inculcate in our students, the safer it will be for them to achieve the greatness we have promised them.It is the time of year when those of us who serve as teachers, from college to Kindergarten, are ramping up our preparation for the upcoming term. In my home university, new faculty are arriving on campus this week for onboarding, next week will be devoted to faculty meetings at the university and college level, and then the students arrive.
University faculty need this time to prepare. In pursuit of efficiency and cost control we have reduced the number of hours students spend in the classroom to the minimum required by our various accreditors. At the same time, in an attempt to improve the competitive value of our programs we have upgraded the learning outcomes promised to our students. Faculty need to prepare every lecture, assignment, experiment, exam, discussion, and exercise if they are going to meet all their course objectives in the limited time available.
Student expectations are also high. We have promised them greatness. We have assured them our classes can transform them into great writers, great speakers, great problem solvers, and great thinkers. We have touted to them the success of some of their select forebearers who achieved prestigious graduate school acceptances or cool jobs with high starting salaries as a result of our training. Those kinds of commitments, although usually moral rather than contractual, drive our need for preparation. Greatness is not easy, and it will take all our skill and energy as educators to prepare our students to achieve it.
Unfortunately, this swirl of well-meaning activity may mask a common failing of the university, particularly for Christian faculty and institutions. Is our frenzy of planning at this time of year preparing students to be great, while ignoring training them to be good? It invites the old saying mistakenly attributed to C.S. Lewis, “Education without values, as useful as it is, seems rather to make man a more clever devil.”1
At the same time, most of us are not trained in theology or moral philosophy. As Christian instructors, should we not be concentrating on being good stewards of the students before us by imparting the expertise of our particular disciplines? We may well prefer to stay within our realm of proficiency and rely on others within the university to focus on the students’ Christian worldview. If moral education must happen in the classroom, we would often rather demure on integrating faith into our subject matter and merely allow our students to experience Christian values through the way we conduct ourselves and engage with them. Is that sufficient? What is our responsibility as Christians in higher education?
When my brother and I were children, our parents taught us a simple prayer to say at mealtimes. “God is great. God is good. Let us thank Him for our food.” The simplicity of this prayer conceals some profound theology. When theologians describe the properties of God, they often divide them into His communicable characteristics and incommunicable characteristics.2 Communicable characteristics are the moral attributes of God and include qualities like God’s love, compassion, forgiveness, patience, and kindness – the qualities of God’s goodness. God’s incommunicable characteristics refer to His unique metaphysical attributes such as His qualities of omnipotence, omnipresence, and eternality – His qualities of greatness.
The Bible is replete with instructions to emulate God in His moral attributes. Saint Paul admonishes the Christians in Rome to “Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer”3 capturing three of God’s moral attributes and applying them to the Romans’ contemporary issues.
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Is the PCA a 2.5-Office Church?
Bringing together, then, the “permanency of the gifts which qualify for the office,” and the church’s judgment “that Christ is calling this man to the exercise of the office,” Murray considers it inconsistent for the elder to be installed for a specified period (despite the PCA’s “perpetual” ordination, this does not preclude churches from specifying terms for ruling elders’ service on the session).
I know a family with two cats of their own plus a third cat that holds a sort of quasi-official status. Number THREE gets fed morning and evening at the same time as ONE and TWO, but THREE doesn’t get the whipping cream treat of her fellow felines. ONE and TWO spend time outside during the day but come in at night. Alas, THREE is relegated to the outdoors except when the householder allows her into his office for a spell. THREE receives affection like ONE and TWO, but she lives somewhere between the status of a family cat and a neighborhood cat. The family has, in a sense, 2.5 cats.
I love the Presbyterian Church in America (PCA), including our biblical form of government: rule by the plurality of elders. I recall, decades ago, the words of a long-serving ruling elder who told me: “The beauty of our church’s form of government is that a layman may rise to the highest office in the church, an elder.” His words reflected the PCA’s position, found in the Book of Church Order (BCO), of having only two offices in the church – elder and deacon.
Here I’ll suggest two specific areas in which the PCA – while holding to two offices, not three – in practice, encourages what has been called, half-seriously, a 2.5-office system.
First, ruling elder terms on the session.
An article by John Murray will be helpful, originally published in The Presbyterian Guardian (Feb. 15, 1955). An Orthodox Presbyterian Church (OPC) teaching elder, Murray helped to revise the Church’s Form of Government. In “Arguments Against Term Eldership,” Murray states “the idea of being ordained to office for a limited period of time is without warrant from the New Testament, and is contrary to the implications of election and ordination.” (Murray makes clear there are cases in which a ruling elder may be removed from office.) He notes, “. . . there is no overt warrant from the New Testament for what we may call ‘term eldership.’ There is no intimation . . . that the elders in question were ordained to the office for a specified time. This is a consideration that must not lightly be dismissed.”
Murray acknowledges that while “the New Testament does not expressly legislate against term eldership, there are considerations which fall into the category of good and necessary inference, and which militate against the propriety of this practice.” He notes the qualifications for eldership are of a “high order,” from 1 Timothy 3 and Titus 1. The elder’s gifts “are not of a temporary character,” the implication, therefore, “. . . that he permanently possesses them.” When a church elects a man to the office of elder, she must be convinced that he possesses the requisite qualifications and gifts. Here Murray adds an essential consideration: in electing an elder the church also judges “to the effect that, by reason of the gifts with which he is endowed, Christ the head of the church, and the Holy Spirit who dwells in the church, are calling this man to the exercise of this sacred office. . . . The Church is acting ministerially in doing the will of Christ” (see Acts 20:28). Bringing together, then, the “permanency of the gifts which qualify for the office,” and the church’s judgment “that Christ is calling this man to the exercise of the office,” Murray considers it inconsistent for the elder to be installed for a specified period (despite the PCA’s “perpetual” ordination, this does not preclude churches from specifying terms for ruling elders’ service on the session).
Murray’s third line of argument “pertains to the unity of the office of ruling,” in which respect the ruling and teaching elder “are on complete parity.” He perceives that term eldership for ruling elders “draws a line of cleavage between ruling elders and teaching elders in respect to that one function” common to both. Murray refutes the argument that because teaching elders are called to full-time ministry but ruling elders to part-time, this provides a basis for ruling elder terms. Full- or part-time service has “absolutely nothing to do with the question of the permanency of the call to office,” he says. Murray concludes with seven practical considerations against term eldership.” The first two concern the “notion of trial periods,” in the minds of congregants, as well in the minds of elders themselves. Such notions have no place concerning eldership.
Second, infrequent or denied ruling elder leadership in corporate worship.
In the PCA, some if not many churches typically allow ruling elders a speaking part in the service: reading a passage of Scripture or leading the affirmation of faith, or offering one of the several prayers. But for those churches that do not, why is that the case? Certainly, there are a number of ruling elders (perhaps most, given some training?) possessing the requisite qualities for an effective reading or prayer (which should be assigned and prepared for). (An effective reading, by the way, is more challenging than one might assume; even more so, a prayer.) Shouldn’t we naturally expect that a congregation will be encouraged in their own Christian walk as they see and hear one of their own shepherds – a “non-professional” – leading in worship before the living God? Might not such examples serve to nudge some members to improve their own giving of attention to the Word and prayer?
Further, considering the character traits and gifts required of the ruling elder, and given that the PCA upholds the position of all elders sharing the same office, on what basis should any church view her elders as unequipped for leading some portions of corporate worship? Again, preparation for such a role is assumed. Every part of corporate worship is a holy act, and every participatory role a sacred undertaking. (It could be instructive that in a sister denomination, the OPC, although holding a three-office position – teaching elder, ruling elder, and deacon – ruling elder participation in corporate worship may be as widely practiced as in the two-office PCA.)
In conclusion, please don’t misinterpret my intent. These are not sin issues. Rather, may this essay encourage discussions within PCA churches and courts that may lead to a closer aligning of our practices with our excellent doctrine and polity. And, all to the glory of God! (I’ll close now, as cat THREE managed to wander inside the house uninvited.) That said, should greater consistency be achieved respecting these and possibly other ruling elder matters one day, truly it will be . . . the cat’s meow.
A Presbyterian Elder
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Are Pastors Caught in Lies Disqualified from Ministry?
Pastors who are caught in lies shouldn’t always be restored to pastoral ministry. Though our sin can’t rob us of our salvation, it can rob us of our pastorate. But even if a pastor’s lie takes his ministry role from him (for a season or forever), Christ’s forgiveness remains free and full. We only need to desire it, turn in faith from our sin, and take hold of our resurrected Lord’s glorious promise (1 John 1:9).
Trust in pastors is probably close to an all-time low. Gone are the days of blind trust in the words of the one who carries a ministry title. Too many people have seen lies pastors tell brought out into the light and proven to be falsehoods. But should lying pastors be disqualified from ministry?
Let me burst the bubble for you. All pastors have lied. Every single one of us. Some in greater measure and others in lesser. But there’s not a pastor alive who has never told a falsehood. Sometimes we lie by inflating numbers. Other times we lie by telling the people in our churches what we think they want to hear. Sometimes pastors lie to cover up their own or others’ sins. How should these lies be addressed? What lies are disqualifying?
Deceit is Sinful
When I recognize every pastor has lied, I’m not excusing it. Deceit is sinful, and it rises from wicked hearts. Deceit comes from the father of lies, Satan himself (John 8:44). Though there are honorable lies, as in the case of Rahab in Joshua 2, that’s not what we practice when we share half-truths, exaggerate, or outright deceive. As we see in the example of Ananias and Sapphira (Acts 5:1–5), when we lie to the church, we’re lying to God, and that must be reckoned with.
Lying to the church is a sin so grievous that when pastors deceive, it can disqualify them from ministry. But how do you determine whether a pastor caught in a lie should be removed from his office? We must consider (1) the lie’s severity and (2) the pastor’s repentance.
Weigh the Lie’s Severity
When a pastor is caught in a lie, the natural consequence is, at minimum, an erosion of trust between himself and the congregation he shepherds. Many factors affect the extent of the erosion, but it’s often determined by the lie’s severity. Did the pastor report slightly inflated attendance numbers, exaggerate a sermon illustration, lie about a contentious situation, or steal money from the church?
If churches are to respond rightly, each of these situations must be weighted correctly. Did the lie cause disrepute to be brought upon Christ’s name in the public sphere?
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