Further Up, and Further In!

Judging by the discussion generated by my last post, it would appear that both academics and Christianity can be (and are being) interpreted in a variety of ways. Therefore, I will devote this second post to clarifying my definition of these two spheres. I figure that the best way to do this is to describe the process that led me to my current stance, or, in some cases, my lack thereof.

When I decided to attend university, my decision was largely influenced by my parents' great respect for learning, as well as my propensity for reading academically oriented Christian authors such as C. S. Lewis and George MacDonald. However, in despite of these influences, I still had the lurking feeling (which often haunts even the most seasoned evangelical Christian) that the university was a dangerous place which specialised in corrupting faithful Christians. I later discovered that I was, in many ways, both right and wrong in my assessment.

As I attempted to tackle my studies "as working for the Lord, not for men," I began to realise that much of what passed as Christian persecution at the university was actually (if I may put it candidly) the persecution of ignorance. Often, members of the academic community did not have problems with the Christian faith per se. Rather, they had problems with an embarrasingly simplistic construction of Christianity, a construction that was kept permanently infantile in Sunday school, fed on a diet of theological milk, and constrained through an unfortunate conflation of childishness and childlikeness. Of course professors are going to react adversely to the sentiments expressed in "Jesus Loves Me" and "The Four Spiritual Laws;" they do so because such texts fail to sufficiently "unpack" their meaning, not because they are Christian. They would (I naively presumed) react the same way toward any simplistic text that they encountered. Thus, for most of my undergraduate career, I assumed that Christian students' complaints of persecution were largely overstated.

As I progressed towards my Masters, however, I began to realise that subtle powers were controlling the university, and that, while the university does not persecute Christians in the way that most Christians assume, it poses difficulties in a very different, nearly imperceptible, way. I realised that the very questions we ask (and are taught to ask) and the ways we are taught to think spring from a particular worldview, and that the worldview encouraged in a university setting is certainly not Christian. For example, my Feminist Literary Theory course last semester helped me to realise that almost all of the courses that I have taken are shot through with deconstruction, a theoretical paradigm that is largely based on the denial of the logos of John 1. Professors who are influenced by this paradigm do not usually stand up and rail against Christianity; however, their unacknowledged usage of deconstruction often guarantees that their lectures have a subtle, if not subconscious, anti-Christian bias. Often, however, Christians are not even aware of such subtle philosophical biases. Many Christians follow the Pharisees in attempting to strain out a gnat while simultaneously swallowing a camel; they balk at reading books that contain explicit sexuality, violence, and swearing (I would here pause to ask if such Christians have read the book of Judges, if I did not fear the response, due to the tragic decrease of Biblical literacy among Christians), but blindly swallow entire courses, programs, and degrees that are based on anti-Christian premises.

I also began to realise that those with academic power do not treat all "ignorance" equally. For example, it is not uncommon to find a professor who would scorn simplistically represented Christianity, but then turn around and accept equally simplistic cliches from Freudian, Marxian, Darwinian, and Derridian quarters (note: I do not believe that these men were themselves simplistic, but contemporary incarnations of their theories has reached a level of absurdity that even outstrips that of contemporary Christianity. At least Christianity includes in its creedal equation modes of dealing with its sin, shame, and ignorance - these theories do not).) Moreover, as one approaches higher levels of academia, one begins to feel that one is being slightly penalised for one's beliefs. This penalisation does not occur in the form of marks or courses, but rather in the unmonitored behaviour and attitude of certain powerful persons, and it is something we sense rather than something that is explicitly stated. Such penalisation is never overtly stated; rather, it is subtly communicated by cool responses to our extracurricular activities, by the failure to promote forums that treat the issue of Christian faith and the university, and by the bypassing of Christians when it comes to forming committees. Such penalisation is difficult to guage, measure, and assess, and, as we seek to do so, we must beware lest we turn Christian/academic concerns into a means of simply achieving our own personal ends, as have some of the contemporary "human rights" activists.