Leviticus

The Book of Leviticus is at once the most legalistic of Old Testament books and the book which most clearly presents the grace of God in providing for man’s redemption. Minute prescriptions are given for the correct observance of rites and ceremonies, fast days and feast days. The most intimate details of life are regulated. Yet the very system of sacrifices which looms so large in Leviticus was designed to provide an atonement for the sinner. The shedding of blood at the brazen altar spoke of a God who desired to bring his errant people back to fellowship with himself.

Authorship Of Leviticus

Leviticus, along with the other books of the Pentateuch, has been traditionally ascribed to Moses. It shared in the dismemberment of the Pentateuch as proposed by the school of Wellhausen. Legal and priestly portions were assigned to the priestly writer (P). Most of Leviticus fell under this classification.

Archaeological discoveries of the present century tend to discount the neat schemes of source analysis which were popular a generation or two ago. The thought that the Levitical institutions were a projection into antiquity of the practices of the second Temple (from 500 B.C. onward) cannot be seriously entertained today. Clay tablets dating back to the fourteenth century before Christ, discovered at Ras Shamra (ancient Ugarit) since 1929, contain references to cultic practices which, in some cases, provide an exact parallel to Leviticus. In alphabetic script dating from the time of Moses we read of the burnt offering, the whole burnt offering, the peace offering, and the trespass (or guilt) offering.

That sacrifices were offered before Moses codified Israel’s law is taught throughout the Book of Genesis. Abel, Noah, Abraham and the patriarchs of Israel all offered sacrifices on altars which they built wherever they might be sojourning. In a theophany, God said to Isaac, “Abraham obeyed my voice, and kept my charge, my commandments, my statutes, and my laws” (Gen. 26:5).

Significant changes took place in the sacrificial system as codified in the Mosaic law. In place of the head of the family or clan officiating at his own altar (cf. Job 1:5), the sons of Aaron were consecrated to the priesthood. A portable structure, the Tabernacle, became the place of divine manifestation in the midst of the camp of Israel. Sacrifices were to be offered on the brazen altar at the gate of the Tabernacle court.

Trained as the adopted son of Pharaoh’s daughter, Moses was providentially prepared to become Israel’s lawgiver. Our increasing knowledge of the ancient Near East helps us to understand him in the important role he played as the mediator through whom God gave his law to Israel.

Coming Articles

Future studies for Bible Book of the Month are being prepared by outstanding evangelical scholars. In the Old Testament field Dr. R. Laird Harris of Covenant Theological Seminary will write on the Book of Numbers; Dr. Oswald T. Allis, on the Book of Deuteronomy; Dr. Charles F. Pfeiffer of Moody Bible Institute, on I Samuel; Dr. David A. Hubbard of Westmont College, on the Book of I Kings; Professor David Kerr of Gordon Divinity School, on the Book of Ezekiel; Dr. J. G. S. S. Thomson of Columbia Theological Seminary, on the Book of Hosea; Dr. Edward J. Young of Westminster Theological Seminary, on the Book of Amos; Dr. David A. Hubbard of Westmont College, Santa Barbara, California, on the Book of Joel.

In the New Testament field Professor John Murray of Westminster Theological Seminary will write on the Epistle to the Romans; Dr. Philip E. Hughes, Lecturer, Mortlake Parish Church, Church of England, on the Epistle to the Galatians; Dr. John H. Gerstner, of Pittsburgh-Xenia College, on the Epistle to the Ephesians; Dr. Merrill C. Tenney of Wheaton Gradudate School, on the Epistle to the Philippians; and Dr. F. F. Bruce of Sheffield University, England, on the Epistle to the Colossians.

The Purpose Of Leviticus

Leviticus is often thought of as a directory of worship for the Levitical priesthood. It is that, and much more. The instruction is addressed both to the priest and the layman. Although the priest is the one consecrated to approach God in prayer with a prescribed sacrifice, the demand of holiness and the opportunity for a life of fellowship with God know no limitations.

The law has sometimes been described as a hedge. It was designed to separate Israel from the surrounding nations. There were sins of Egypt and of Canaan which proved a source of temptation to Israel. God warned his people of the danger of yielding to these sins. Israel must “make a difference between the unclean and the clean.” Certain heathen practices were associated with diet. In Ugarit an individual would seek to gain favor with his god by slaying a kid in milk. The Mosaic law. legislated: “Thou shalt not seethe a kid in his mother’s milk” (Exod. 23:19).

The law which separated Israel from the nations was also to serve as a testimony to them. Abraham’s call involved the promise of ultimate blessing to “all the families of the earth” (Gen. 12:3). Isaiah triumphantly cried, “… out of Zion shall go forth the law, and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem. And he shall judge between the nations, and shall decide for many peoples” (Isa. 2:3–4). Throughout the Old Testament period there were souls like Rahab and Ruth who found in the law of the God of Israel that revelation of truth which became the guide of their lives. A Jonah might have no compassion on the inhabitants of Nineveh, but he was subjected to the discipline of God.

Leviticus also served as a part of that law which was to serve as a “schoolmaster” or “custodian” “to bring us to Christ” (Gal. 3:24). The fact of sin as an offense to God stands out in bold relief. The necessity for atonement through a prescribed sacrifice is the burden of Leviticus 1–7 and 16. The Lord’s claims on the time of his people are marked out in chapters 23 to 25.

Leviticus And The New Testament

In his earthly ministry, Jesus always spoke with utmost respect concerning Old Testament law. He made it clear that he had not come to destroy, but rather to fulfill the law (cf. Matt. 5:17). Paul considered the law as preparatory to Christ. It brought “the knowledge of sin” (Rom. 3:20). In this way human hearts were prepared to receive the divine Saviour.

The Epistle to the Hebrews declares the Mosaic institutions to be “the example and shadow of heavenly things” (8:5). They look forward to the ministry of Christ, for “it is not possible that the blood of bulls and of goats should take away sins” (10:4). The words of Jeremiah (31:31) are recalled, wherein the Lord promised to make a New Covenant in which the law would be written on the hearts of his people (Heb. 8:7–13). The first covenant, entered into by Israel with God at Mt. Sinai, was not “perfect” or there would have been no need for Jeremiah’s prophecy of a New Covenant. Israel broke the covenant—“they continued not in my covenant … saith the Lord” (8:9). God, however, mercifully promised a New Covenant, of which the Sinai covenant may be regarded as a type or shadow.

Parallels are drawn between Christ and Aaron. Both are appointed by and acceptable to God. Both offer sacrifices. Christ is not of the Aaronic order, however, but of the royal line going through David to Judah. How then can Christ serve as a priest? Prior to Levi (progenitor of the Levitical priesthood), Abraham had paid tithes to Melchizedek, the priest-king of Salem. Psalm 110 had mentioned one who would serve as a priest “after the order of Melchizedek.” The author of Hebrews uses these facts to demonstrate that Christ is a valid priest of a more ancient and high order than that of Aaron. In discussing the work of the priest, the author of the Epistle to the Hebrews makes use of the Levitical institutions, but in discussing the person of Christ, “our great High Priest,” he refers to the superior priesthood of Melchizedek.

As soon as Gentiles began to enter the Church in significant numbers it became necessary for the Church to define its attitude toward the Mosaic law. This was done at the Council of Jerusalem (Acts 15). Even before this, however, Peter received a revelation which heralded a new day for the Church. To overcome his reluctance to preach to the Gentile, Cornelius, Peter received a vision. A sheet containing all kinds of animals, reptiles, and birds was let down from heaven. Peter heard a voice saying, “Rise, Peter; kill and eat.” Peter’s reaction, as an orthodox Jew, was prompt: “No, Lord; for I have never eaten anything that is common or unclean.” The answer was to have far-reaching significance in the history of the Church: “What God has cleansed, you must not call common” (Acts 10:9–15). Although the purpose of this vision was to prepare Peter to preach the Gospel to an “unclean” Gentile, the form of the vision is significant in indicating that “unclean” foods might be considered “cleansed” after the purpose of the law had been accomplished.

Relevance Of Leviticus

If the Levitical regulations are not binding on the Church of Christ, why should we study Leviticus? If the New Covenant in Jesus’ blood is superior to and supplants the old covenant, in the blood of bulls and goats, can we not safely disregard the Mosaic covenant? Theologically the Church replies, “No!” Leviticus is in the Canon of Scripture and no serious effort has been made to remove it. Practically, however, it is often removed by the simple expediency of neglect.

Leviticus has important truth for every age. God is, in his essence, changeless. He revealed himself to Israel as a holy God. The character of God and the demands of holiness are taught in Leviticus with an emphasis which demands the attention of God’s people in every age. The God who warned Israel of the perils of disobedience is the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ.

Much of the theological vocabulary of the New Testament is understandable only by one who is well versed in the Old Testament sacrificial system. On the first page of the most popular New Testament book we read, “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!” (John 1:29). The Israelite who heard these words of John the Baptist needed no commentary on them. He knew of the animals that were presented in the Temple to make atonement for individual or national sin. He knew that Jesus was being spoken of in the terms of sacrifice. The same may be said for the concepts of atonement and cleansing, so oft repeated in the New Testament. The blood of atonement and the laver of cleansing are concepts clearly taught in Leviticus.

Outline Of Leviticus

The Law of the Offerings (1:1–7:38). The section 1:1–6:7 gives the laws of the offerings. Supplementary instructions for the priests are given in 6:8 and 7:38. The five offerings are:

The burnt offering, existing in three grades, depending on the ability of the worshipper. In each case the offering was wholly consumed on the altar.

The meal offering, in three varieties. A handful was burned as a “memorial” (i.e. to bring the worshipper before God for mercy), and the remainder was eaten by the priests.

The peace offering served as a thank offering. Considerable latitude was allowed in the selection of a victim. The best part was burned as an offering to God, certain parts were assigned to the priests, and the remainder was returned to the worshipper.

The sin offering was provided for the atonement of sins committed “through ignorance” in contrast to those committed “with a high hand,” or in willful defiance of God. Four grades are prescribed, depending on the position of the offerer (high priest, whole nation, ruler, and private citizen). Blood is applied in the Tabernacle. The carcass is burned in a “clean place” outside the camp.

The trespass offering was provided for the individual who was unfaithful in meeting his obligations to God or man. A ram was prescribed. Part was burned and the remainder eaten by the priest. The offender was obligated to repay the amount due in offerings to God or obligation to man, with an additional fifth as a kind of fine which served to recompense the offended party for the loss of the use of his property.

2. The Consecration of Aaron and His Sons (8:1–10:20). After special offerings, Aaron and his sons were ceremonially cleansed, arrayed in priestly garments, and anointed for their work. A sacrificial meal was eaten at the door of the Tabernacle by the priests. The ceremony was repeated for seven days.

Following the week of consecration, the actual priestly work began. Sacrifices were offered for priests and people. Fire from heaven consumed the sacrifices. Nadab and Abihu, sons of Aaron took “strange fire” and offered incense. They died on the spot. God insists that offerings be made as he prescribes. The case of Ananias and Sapphira (Acts 5:1–11) is a parallel case in the early Church.

3. Laws of Purity (11:1–15:33). Prescriptions are given in the matters of food, childbirth, leprosy, and sexual life. The one ceremonially unclean may not take part in the life of the community.

4. The Day of Atonement (16:1–34). The most solemn day of the Israelite calendar. On this day the High Priest entered the Holy of Holies to make atonement for the sins of the people.

5. Holiness on the part of the People (17:1–20:27). Laws concerning food, marriage, and conduct are presented. The heinousness of the sins of religious prostitution (common in Canaanite religion) and infant sacrifice (practiced by Molech worshippers) calls forth specific condemnation and severe penalties for disobedience to the God of Israel. On the positive side, “Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself” (19:18).

6. Holiness on the part of Priests and Offerings (21:1–22:33). A special responsibility must be felt by those who handle “holy things.” Priests and offerings alike must be without visible blemish.

7. The Sanctification of Feasts (23:1–25:55). Basic to the Mosaic institutions was the concept of sacred seasons or “set feasts” when the great facts of Israel’s history were commemorated. These included the weekly Sabbath, a series of annual feasts and fasts, and special observances on the seventh and fiftieth years.

The Sabbath was designed to be a happy occasion when families gathered together in happy fellowship (23:3). It was called a “sabbath of solemn rest” and no work was to be performed on the seventh day.

The Passover (cf. Ex. 12) with the associated feast of unleavened bread formed an eight day annual feast. The presentation of a “sheaf of firstfruits” (23:10–11) marked the beginning of the barley harvest, and a recognition of the fact that the harvests revealed the mercy of the Lord.

Fifty days after the “sheaf of first-fruits,” the Feast of Weeks, or Pentecost was observed. This marked the end of the wheat harvest.

During the seventh month, the Feast of Trumpets, the Day of Atonement, and the Feast of Tabernacles were observed. Trumpets became known as the New Year’s Day. The Day of Atonement is described in Leviticus 16. Tabernacles was a joyous feast lasting eight days and commemorating the wilderness wandering of the Israelites (23:33–44). It served as a kind of “thanksgiving” and “harvest home” celebration, for it marked the end of the agricultural year.

The New Testament makes use of the language of the set feasts. Christ is termed “the firstfruits of them that are asleep” (1 Cor. 15:20, 23). James terms believers “a kind of firstfruits of his creatures” (Jas. 1:18). The author of Hebrews concludes, “there remains a sabbath rest for the people of God” (Heb. 4:9). It was on the Day of Pentecost that the Spirit came in power (Acts 2).

Every seventh year was observed as a “sabbath for the land,” which was permitted to lie fallow. After seven sabbaths of years, the fiftieth year was celebrated as a Jubilee. Slaves were set free. Family property which had been alienated was restored. It was a joyous occasion when Israel was commanded to “proclaim liberty throughout all the land unto all the inhabitants thereof” (25:10).

8. The Blessing of Obedience and the Evil of Disobedience (26:1–46). God’s covenant to bless and protect his people was a conditional one. He made it clear that disobedience and idolatry would bring severe judgment. Repentance, however, would result in restoration.

9. Laws Concerning Vows (27:1–34). In addition to meeting the demands of the law, such as tithes and firstfruits, a man might pledge his person or property to the Lord as a gift. Vows were voluntary, but when once made they were considered binding.

Tools For Study

For a brief but helpful discussion of Leviticus, the treatment of the book by Oswald T. Allis in his book God Spake by Moses and in The New Bible Commentary should be consulted. Charles R. Erdman’s exposition, The Book of Leviticus is nontechnical but helpful.

The exegete will wish to consult the treatment of Leviticus in the Keil and Delitzsch series and the work of Frederic Gardiner in the Lange Commentary. Kellogg on Leviticus in the Expositor’s Bible is a classic.

The concepts of sacrifice, priesthood, and offering are popularly treated in W. G. Moorehead, Studies in the Mosaic Institutions. More conservative in its treatment of types is the volume by Patrick Fairbairn, The Typology of Scripture. The pertinent sections in Oehler, Old Testament Theology and Geerhardus Vos, Biblical Theology are of help in relating Leviticus to the progress of revelation in Scripture.

An old but still helpful work on the subject of sacrifice is that by A. Stewart, The Mosaic Sacrifices. For a discussion of such concepts as redemption, the blood, and propitiation—basic to an understanding of the Israelite sacrificial system—the student should consult the recent (1955) work by Leon Morris, The Apostolic Preaching of the Cross. Here is an excellent discussion of the connection between blood and life and the problems raised in the exegesis of Leviticus 17:11. The writer’s The Book of Leviticus: A Study Manual provides an annotated outline of the book.

CHARLES F. PFEIFFER

Professor of Old Testament

Moody Bible Institute

Chicago, Ill.

The intermediate state is the state of the human soul between death and the resurrection. Scripture represents the intermediate state as provisional, constituting neither the ultimate bliss of the saved nor the ultimate doom of the lost. It forms, in effect, a transition between life within history and the ultimate life in eternity. But this basic fact is often ignored and the intermediate state of the Christian dead is spoken of in terms Scripture reserves for the life after resurrection.

State Of Quiet Consciousness

All theories of “soul sleep” are excluded by the plain teachings of Scripture. The term “sleep,” as a description of death, is used in the case of Christians only. It refers either to the rest of the body after death, or is used metaphorically of the soul to imply a state of peaceful rest. Scripture is clear that consciousness continues after death; “to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord” (2 Cor. 5:8). As we are conscious of the body’s presence in this life, we shall be conscious of the Lord’s presence in the intermediate state. That the intermediate state of the redeemed is a state of quiet rest is shown by Rev. 14:13 (“Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord … that they may rest from their labors.…”) The same context says of the wicked: “they have no rest day nor night …” (14:11).

It is only through the instrumentality of the body that man is in touch with the earthly environment—the realm of nature and the world of human society. In the abnormal state of not having a body, the connection cannot exist. Whatever of objective reality there may be in spiritism, it cannot involve a real communication between the dead and the living. If the debated case of Saul at Endor involved a real appearing of Samuel, this must be regarded as an exception brought about by the will of God, not by the action of the woman with a familiar spirit. Between death and the resurrection, the human soul is completely separated from the physical world and from human society in this world. After death man is no longer a citizen of history.

State Of Moral Perfection

Scripture speaks of “the spirits of just men made perfect” (Heb. 12:23) and of “holiness, without which no man shall see the Lord” (Heb. 12:14). In harmony with this, the Westminster Shorter Catechism affirms that “The souls of believers are at their death made perfect in holiness.…” This scriptural truth rules out both the notion of purgatory and that of a second or continued probation after death. The body is not the seat of sin; yet in the instant of separation between soul and body, the process of sanctification is miraculously completed. This should not be difficult to believe, for the scriptural idea of sanctification is that it is supernatural from its very beginning (the new birth). There is no reason why God should not bring a gradual supernatural process to a sudden completion by an instantaneous supernatural act.

State Of Metaphysical Incompleteness

All tendencies to regard the intermediate state as the ideal condition are unscriptural. It is represented in Scripture as more desirable than the condition of frustration and struggle which characterizes the present life, and yet much less desirable than the completed blessedness of the resurrection. It is a “being unclothed,” a being “found naked” (2 Cor. 5:3, 4). Paul hoped to avoid it, if possible, by living on earth until the Lord’s second coming, so that he would not be “unclothed” (i.e., a disembodied soul). Man is a composite being consisting of body and soul (or mind), and both are necessary to his normal existence. The lack of the body in the intermediate state renders man in that state deficient and abnormal. In the intermediate state, man lacks something which he must have to be truly normal and completely happy; hence Scripture represents the intermediate state as a state of waiting (Rev. 6:11; Heb. 11:39, 40). The complete metaphysical perfection of man comes only by the resurrection of the body and its union with the completely sanctified soul (Rom. 8:23–25; 1 Cor. 15:50–54).

Relation To Time And Eternity

Recent researches in the comparatively new science of parapsychology seem to indicate that the mind of man, unlike his body, is not always necessarily geared to the time-sequence which makes up history. “Precognition, often recorded as happening spontaneously over considerable gaps of time, is now demonstrable statistically for a matter of seconds” (L. W. Grensted, The Psychology of Religion, New York, 1952, p. 165). There seems to be an increasing body of credible, carefully tested evidence that the principles of time-sequence and causation, which are universally valid in the physical world, are not always valid for the functioning of the mind.

Our faith, of course, is based on Scripture, not on researches in parapsychology. It may be said, however, that Scripture nowhere teaches that the time-sequence which we call history applies to other spheres of existence than the physical universe. Rather, Scripture seems to imply the contrary. J. Stafford Wright has suggested that in the intermediate state, the human mind will be geared to a different kind of time-scale from that of the physical universe, though we cannot guess what it might be (Man in the Process of Time, Eerdmans, 1956, p. 179). Scripture indeed suggests this. The duration between their martyrdom and their resurrection is represented to the souls under the altar as “a little season” (Rev. 6:11), yet in terms of historic time it must be at least 19 centuries, possibly much more.

J. Stafford Wright further suggests that to some, at least, the resurrection may seem to come almost immediately after death, adding that this would give point to the expectation of the early Christians that the Lord’s second coming would take place soon (ibid.). While we cannot speak positively where Scripture is silent, it seems probable that time as we know it in the present life does not exist in the intermediate state. When the soul or mind is separated from the body, clocks and calendars cease to have any relevance to the person.

Intermediate State And Progress

Many theologians have assumed that the intermediate state is a state of progress, though as J. Stafford Wright properly points out, Scripture nowhere teaches that it is (op. cit., pp. 182–3). Progress in sanctification must be ruled out absolutely; it would involve a struggle against sin and temptation which would be incompatible with the peaceful rest of the intermediate state; this state of rest implies complete holiness.

But what about progress of other kinds? Does an infant that dies remain an infant through the intermediate state and rise as an infant at the resurrection? Scripture is silent, therefore we must be cautious. On the whole, however, the implications of Scripture seem to be against any kind of progress in the intermediate state; rather, it is represented as an interim static condition. The lack of a body would seem to imply this, in view of the fact that man’s normal constitution requires a body for the development of his personality. If this be correct, it may partly explain the fact that in Scripture all the emphasis is on the resurrection rather than the intermediate state as the object of Christian hope.

In this article we have been considering principally the intermediate state of the redeemed. But what about the lost? Scripture teaches the continued conscious existence of the wicked after death, and their suffering and woe during the intermediate state. Obviously this cannot be bodily suffering, being prior to the resurrection; therefore the plea of the rich man for water to cool his tongue (Luke 16:24) cannot be interpreted literally. It has been suggested that the wicked, being alienated from God and having no spiritual communion with him, will be tortured in the intermediate state by having desires but no body through which any of these desires could be satisfied, while the redeemed in the intermediate state will be “comforted” (Luke 16:25) by their consciousness of the presence of Christ and their spiritual communion with God. No matter how we interpret the scriptural statements about the condition of the wicked in the intermediate state, that condition must be terrible beyond our ability to imagine, and it will end only in a still more terrible doom at the resurrection.

Johannes G. Vos is Chairman of the Department of Biblical Literature, Religious Education and Philosophy in Geneva College, Pennsylvania. He holds the B.A. degree from Princeton University, Th.B. from Princeton Theological Seminary, Th.M. from Westminster Theological Seminary, and honorary D.D. from Geneva College. He is Editor of Blue Banner Faith and Life, Bible-study quarterly of the Reformed Presbyterians.

In its meeting last spring at Omaha, Nebraska, our General Assembly [Presbyterian Church, U. S. A.] completed and adopted a resolution upon which several years’ work had been done relative to understanding our public schools. The statement has created discussion and controversy, by no means limited to Presbyterians.

The Presbyterian General Assembly came out in strong support of our public schools. Of recent years there has been a considerable movement to revive parochial education, not only among Roman Catholics, but also among Protestants. The Lutherans, for instance, have a very extensive parochial school system, and there are even a few Presbyterian parochial schools. But, said the General Assembly, parochial schools are not the answer. The committee which drew up the statement declared, for example, “that the inclusion of an overt observance of religion does not necessarily provide any institution with a dynamic religious character.” The statement goes on to make this claim: “General superiority neither in academic achievement nor in ethical behavior has been demonstrated when elementary and secondary students of parochial schools are compared with students of the public schools. Further, it has not been demonstrated that attendance at the parochial primary and secondary school better equips persons to participate as Christians in the life of the total community. Nor is it at all certain that attendance at parochial schools prepares a person to participate more fully in the life of the religious community. The moral ills common to our society are found in student populations in both parochial and public schools.”

Now, if a religious emphasis is to be left out of public education, are we to conclude that our schools therefore are “godless,” as many people have accused? If we should not have church-related schools, and if public education is “godless,” then we are really in a jam! We become totally dependent upon one hour a week on Sunday morning for the religious training of our children, and this is scarcely enough for anyone. How did the General Assembly answer this dilemma?

It answered by saying that our public schools are not “godless.” It calls attention to the fact that many dedicated Christians are teachers—that in fact most teachers are Christian, and that their influence cannot help rubbing off on the children. On the other hand, if we set up a lot of parochial schools and leave the public schools to teachers who are not Christian, then our public education will lose a great deal of the godly character that it already has.

And yet, even besides the Christian character of many teachers, there are other essentially religious influences at work, even though they do not parade under the name of religion. Dr. Ganse Little, in presenting the statement about the public schools to the General Assembly, spoke of these influences as the “leaven” which is hidden in the “three measures of meal” and with which “the whole loaf is finally leavened.” The most important of these religious influences are those we have already mentioned, viz., the basic commitment of our schools to the inherent worth of the individual child, and an insistence upon unfettered and dedicated search for truth. There is a religious influence again in the development of attitudes which are involved in living, learning, and growing together. “In the public school,” says the report, “there is neither Jew nor Greek, bond nor free, male nor female, black nor white.” In other words, despite the integration problem in the South, the public school is the most democratic institution in the world. Or once again, by introducing boys and girls to literature, history, art, music, and science, the public school is giving them something that is part and parcel of Christian culture. And finally, says Dr. Little, “there are thousands upon thousands of hours devoted to skilled counseling and the supervision of extracurricular activities designed to effect the acceptance of one’s self and reconciliation with one’s brother whose only ultimate source is the commitment to a gospel of reconciliation.”

There is much more, but this is the gist of the Presbyterian General Assembly’s defense of public schools. That our schools are not perfect is freely admitted, and church people are urged to assume larger responsibility and feel deeper concern for the public school system, while at the same time keeping Church and State fully separated. It is a good statement and a heartening one. Generally, most of us can approve. Not all the criticisms that have arisen against it are fair; and yet, though to many circles there is a kind of heresy and blasphemy in criticizing education, I myself would like to raise some concerning the very points in which the Assembly’s statement makes its strongest defense.

Some Current Dangers

The values and virtues of education as cited by the Presbyterian statement may, indeed, exist (at least to a degree and theoretically). But there are two dangers against which our public schools, and we who support them, must be on guard more than I think we are. One is the indiscriminate throwing together of students in a common curriculum and system of instruction irrespective of individual ability and talent. The other is the presenting of a hodge-podge of facts and a variety of subjects without relating them to an over-all philosophy of life. What we have in consequence of these two tendencies is a standardizing and homogenizing of people into a collective mass who look for their guidance in thought and behavior to the whim of the moment and the pressures of propaganda or crowd. When that happens, we have neither the reverence for individual personality nor the earnest search for truth which the General Assembly points to as the ideal of education. When that happens, it makes little difference whether our children are brought up to believe that God really exists. And individuality that is submerged, and minds that are not disciplined to think or hold to a consistent set of values, are at the farthest extreme from anything we can call godly or Christian.

Emphasis On Conformity

I am not saying that all schools and all students belong in this disturbing picture of things, and I have only the highest regard for many teachers who are doing a valiant job within the framework of a difficult situation, and in spite of gross underpay. Yet, are these defects not true of too many of our schools in America? For example, in regard to the first of the two dangers mentioned above, it is not individual achievement that is stressed so much as it is adjustment to the group. If an individual is different or superior, much effort is made to bring him to heel so that he does not stand out from the group. Many a superior student has been made to feel ashamed of his intellectual ability lest he be called an “egghead,” a “bookworm,” or a “square.” He is taught, if not by his teachers, at least by his schoolmates, to conform, to be part of the crowd and thus reduce himself to the lowest common denominator. There is an overwhelming fear of being different or doing anything alone. Heaven only knows how many men and women of superior ability have been lost to the world of creative work because of the very emphasis which the Assembly itself calls Christian, that of “living, learning, and growing together!” Together! Everything together! No individuality, no independence, no standing on your own feet, no self-reliance, no resistance to the crowd, no encouragement to grow to one’s fullest personal capacity. Everything together. One glorious collective, mass man! Up to a point, of course, togetherness is desirable and necessary; but in the overwhelming emphasis given to it, conformity is becoming the great and growing disease of our day. Surveys recently made in our colleges and universities reveal a glaring and disturbing contentment with things as they are, a strong disposition to let the government take care of things, and almost a pathetic satisfaction with the standards of mediocrity as against the standards of excellence. And I see too little evidence that public education and the public itself are even aware of it, much less trying to fight it.

Lack Of Integration

The hodge-podge of subjects given to students without a central motive or an integrating core of conviction confronts us with the second danger. In Life magazine Charles Van Doren, who won fame on TV with his phenomenal memory for facts on a quiz program, presented a searching challenge. There were some who cheered his triumph by saying that at last America has an “egghead” for a hero, and some parents wrote to tell him that their children have acquired a new respect for learning. But Van Doren has concluded after careful thought about his experience that “in the long run the effect of quiz shows on education is rather bad than good.” His reason is that the so-called “knowledge” which quiz contestants exhibit is nothing but “junk”—and I am using his own word. “I can’t imagine a wise man being a bore,” he said. “Yet a contestant could answer every question ever asked on all quiz programs and still be a nincompoop. He could ‘know everything’ and still know nothing, because he knew none of the connections between the things that he knew.”

That is the chief goal of learning—to be able to tie things together into a meaningful whole that gives one a philosophy of life. Unless we can see life steadily and see it whole, we become the victims of every whim of doctrine and every puff of propaganda. What we are faced with in America is a tying of people together as a substitute for tying ideas together. How much, I wonder, are our schools really trying to engender a passion, not just for “getting by” on examinations, but for the thrill of learning? And how much of this contempt for learning is our own fault as adults for the example we are setting for the young? How guilty are we, I wonder, of being satisfied with the smattering of knowledge we picked up in high school or college? We are scarcely aware of how much there is yet to be known, and kid ourselves on how much we think we “know.”

I recognize that these criticisms are strong. But they are intended to call attention to failures at the very points on which the General Assembly has expressed its faith in public education, namely, the supposed emphasis upon the sacredness of the individual and the unrelenting search for truth.

Edward W. Greenfield has joined Spiritual Mobilization as research director in the sphere of the spiritual foundations of freedom. Until recently he was Minister of First Presbyterian Church of Princeton, Indiana. He holds the B.A. from Linfield College, B.D. from Colgate-Rochester Divinity School, M.A. from Columbia University. He will edit Faith and Freedom.

The present temper of American education is such that prominent Christian influences at work a generation ago in the establishment of the National Education Association are now all but forgotten. Buried in scattered historical collections, however, remain irrefutable evidences that American education was founded by men of Christian idealism and character. Their conception of “world citizenship” and of the “American way of life,” to use contemporary phrasing, involved no suppression or obscuring of great Christian beliefs. On the contrary, these founders shared a vital concern for spiritual and moral priorities as integral elements of adequate schoolroom instruction.

A Century Of Activity

In 1957, National Education Association celebrated the centennial of its founding. Nearly 20,000 teachers from 48 states and outlying territories met in Philadelphia to discuss principles and problems of education in the march of freedom.

If we search the records, we can discover from the founding educators the foundations of our American education. The year 1857 was a period of social, financial, and religious depression. Abolition and secession were fanning heated passions toward the inevitable crisis. But the Spirit of God too was moving toward revival, not only in preaching and prayer, but in the rebirth of simple people like Finney, Moody, Sankey, Fanny Crosby, and of leaders in Christian education. Horace Mann, “father of American education,” was educated in the Christian tradition of New England. William H. McGuffey’s Bible-centered Readers were going into extra editions. Charles W. Sanders’ Readers were popularizing new hymns of the Church. An obscure musician, Lowell Mason, discovered by Horace Mann, pioneered in music education. Christian educators from widely separated regions felt the need for a united stand and called for a convention in Philadelphia on August 26, 1857, to form a national teachers association.

It is significant that Daniel B. Hagar, president of the YMCA and a leading Episcopalian layman of Salem, Mass., and James Valentine, a Baptist teacher-preacher of New York, wrote that national invitation. Keynote speaker was William Russell, a seasoned scholar, educated in Glasgow, brought up in the “Auld Kirk.” His address called attention to “the recognition of teaching as a career, with aim, purpose and dedication of life and talent to the moral and intellectual proposition for useful, constructive, Christian citizenship.”

As the man qualified to establish a state normal school at Lexington, Mass., in 1839—first of its kind in America—Horace Mann selected the Rev. Cyrus Peirce, distinguished alumnus of Harvard, and later of its divinity school. His Christian character in the classroom and years of fruitful educational service won him the tribute of teachers and students alike as “spiritual guide and father.” Himself “dean of American educators,” Mann was key speaker at the second convention of the National Teachers Association in 1858. He initiated many modern methods of educational development, but gave the Bible first place among the many indispensable reference and guide books.

Zalmon Richards, first president of the National Teachers Association, was a native of Massachusetts, a graduate of Williams College and a student under Mark Hopkins. In college he led in Bible study and temperance activities, and became an active Baptist. With a strong Christian philosophy of education, he influenced schools and teacher training in both Massachusetts and New York. In 1849 he accepted a call to Columbia College in Washington, D. C., and in 1852 organized a city YMCA, and devoted time to the E Street Baptist Church, reform movements, and to saving the Union. His Christian impress remained in the formative years of the NEA from 1857 to 1899.

In William S. Bogart of Princeton, Principal of Chatham Academy at Savannah, Georgia, we find one who bore the torch of those Christian pioneers, Oglethorpe, Wesley, Whitefield, and Zinzendorf. From Philadelphia and University of Pennsylvania came that great Presbyterian elder and Bible teacher, Henry Duval Gregory, who was to leave his impress on the life and Christian policies of the famous Girard College.

Outstanding and outspoken in their declarations of Christian policy in public education were men of Pennsylvania. Governor Pollock, in his inaugural address, declared the Bible to be “the Foundation of true knowledge … the Charter and Bulwark of civil and religious freedom.” James P. Wickersham, who founded the first state normal school at Millersville, and his colleague, Edward Brooks, who became Superintendent at Philadelphia, carried Christian thought into state and city schools. A glance at the School Controllers Report for 1834 reveals this significant comment: “It is to sound, practical CHRISTIAN education that we must look for improved morals, judicious industry and the maintenance of those principles upon which alone our free and happy institutions can be preserved from destruction.”

The Modern Drift

Today our city schools present a problem and a contrast far removed from the intent of the founding fathers. In Philadelphia, for example, startling changes are seen in the school population, in faculty lists, in alumni, and in general policies.… “Minority groups” without the Christian vision, have gained control, and the results are found in the daily headlines.

To such men as John Seely Hart, great prophet-educator and president of the Central High School, distinguished men in many walks of life today look back with grateful appreciation for Christ-centered education. Dr. Hart’s story might well have been written by Horatio Alger. A sickly boy, discovered by a lady Sunday School missionary, he became a first honor graduate of Princeton College and Seminary. His preaching, his Christian character and teaching, so impressed the Philadelphia School Board that they called him to their new “School of the Republic.” From 1842 to 1858 he molded in a city school a curriculum equal to most colleges of his day. He selected a faculty of scholarly Christian men. The courses he taught in person were Bible-centered, and to every boy during those years he presented a copy of Evidences of Christianity. But Dr. Hart saw changes coming. In 1858 he resigned from the school to assume editorship of American Sunday School Union publications. He founded the Sunday School Times, and from the editorial desk for many years he called on educators everywhere to “stand fast in the liberty wherewith Christ hath made us free.”

Loss Of Soul

Undoubtedly we dwell in perilous times. We note with concern in Dr. Edgar Wesley’s History of the N.E.A. since 1857 what he calls the “Lost Causes” of temperance and Bible emphasis. And when we hear from the platform and on the air the pleas of leaders for a re-emphasis of the spiritual in education, it is time for Christians to assume their responsibility to God and country and our children. This country under God must have a new birth. We are commanded to witness and to teach. Let us swell the ranks of the teaching profession, of state and national organizations. And let us begin right in the home community of parents and schools, knowing that we are living in the “Last Days” and that we have our marching orders from the Divine Teacher himself—Christ our Lord.

Albert C. Norton holds the A.M. from the University of Pennsylvania and also from Harvard, and is an active life member of the National Education Association. He has made a lengthy study of the Christian foundations of public education from state and historical society records, and from the narratives of long-established local educational associations. A resident of Philadelphia, Dr. Norton has completed more than 1000 gospel song lyrics as one of his avocations.

Can the Christian college survive? This is by no means an academic question. It poses a real danger which every thoughtful Christian should face.

For the Christian college, the storm warnings are out. The academic barometer is unsteady, even lowering, with hints of possible hurricanes on the distant horizon.

There is no assurance of uninterrupted prosperity such as we have seen in the past decade. Prudent college trustees and administrators are considering carefully the possibilities of economic depression beyond recession, with attendant unemployment for both parents and students. Likewise there is always possibility that the present cold war may turn hot, and that “brush fires” on limited frontiers may unleash unlimited nuclear warfare. Christian colleges face the warnings of increasing costs of operation, and likewise the general trend of enrollment toward publicly-supported colleges and universities.

But foreboding as the storm warnings are, it is well to remember that Christian colleges are sturdy crafts which have weathered severe storms in past generations. Colleges have a way of riding out a hurricane; and though battered severely, they still sail on.

What Is Christian Education?

What do we mean by “Christian college”? We mean an organized educational institution of higher learning which presents the Christian theistic view of the world, of mankind, and of human culture in the light of biblical and natural revelation. It is committed to the great essentials of the Christian faith: the inspiration of the Bible, the Deity of the Lord Jesus Christ, the atoning death of the Saviour, and his resurrection. And its purpose and program are distinctly Christian, as well as its administration and faculty.

There are three major threats to the survival of Christian colleges: dilution, deterioration, and deviation. These raise not so much a question of whether today’s Christian colleges will survive but whether they will continue to be Christian.

There is always the danger, for one thing, of dilution in Christian personnel. Christian colleges can be so overwhelmed by a tidal wave of students reaching college age that the percentage of Christian students may become a minority, unless great care is taken in admission procedures. It is conservatively estimated that by 1970, the number of college students will be at least double the present number, if not more. And unless there are adequate standards of admission, of spiritual life and conduct, of Bible study and evangelism, the Christian content in the student body may be greatly diminished, even to the danger point.

Staff Shortages

There is even more imminent danger that Christian college faculties may soon be understaffed, due to the already appreciable shortage of college teachers. The President’s Committee on Education Beyond the High School reported, again conservatively, that an additional quarter of a million college teachers will be needed within the next 10 or 12 years; and that the rate of production at the present time is falling far behind. Faculty shortage may be far more acute in Christian colleges because of their requirement for convinced Christian instructors.

Will Christian young people who have the qualifications for college teaching be willing to undergo the long, thorough, and costly preparation necessary for that high calling? The challenge is thrown out to Christian teachers, devoted to their task. Without adequate and dynamic Christian faculties, our colleges cannot continue to be thoroughly Christian; and much of the responsibility, therefore, rests with today’s Christian student who will prepare himself for college teaching in the future.

The administration of Christian colleges will have to find more teachers; and the latter will have to increase their academic effectiveness so as to meet the need of greatly increased student bodies. Class size can be larger; student-faculty ratio can be increased. Retirement age can be extended so that older professors who are still effective can continue to teach longer than is now the practice. There will be more women in college faculties; and there will possibly be more part-time instructors. Business and professional men, scientists, pastors, and housewives will find gratifying service as Christian teachers.

Christian colleges must face and many are facing the urgency of raising faculty salaries. The President’s Committee referred to above recommends that boards of trustees and all others responsible for academic budgets “give the absolute highest priority to raising the salaries of college and university teachers.…” Christian colleges are a work of faith in God, it is true; but the burden of faith should not be borne by the faculty alone, nor by the administration and the trustees; it should be shared by the Christian constituency of each college.

The danger of dilution by being overwhelmed or understaffed can be avoided by Christian colleges if they are careful to maintain high level of spiritual life in the college family and by high level of academic effectiveness and dedication on the part of the faculty.

Danger Of Deterioration

Deterioration of facilities and finances, as well as of faculty, is the second imminent danger. Deterioration sets in when the college is unprepared for the eventualities of tomorrow. That lack of preparation usually stems from lack of planning; which in turn stems from the inability or unwillingness of the trustees and administration to make policy decisions that may seem to be unpleasant. Progress may involve growing pains.

It is urgent that each college undertake an intensive study of its long-range goals and plans. Before costly new construction is considered much thought must be given to the maintenance and improvement of the facilities now available. Are they utilized to their maximum capacities? Are they antiquated, and can they be adapted to more effective usefulness? Only after present facilities are used to greatest efficiency should physical expansion be undertaken. When the latter course becomes imperative, the Christian college must press forward courageously and confidently; otherwise it will find itself attempting to accomplish a hopeless task of teaching a dynamic student body in a greatly deteriorated campus.

Few areas call for more careful planning and more earnest prayer than that of finance. To survive, the Christian college will have to be realistic in the charges for tuition, board and room. With college costs on the increase, the administration which is too timid to face reality may easily find itself bankrupt. There is not much danger that colleges will raise charges to the point of pricing themselves out of students. There is more likelihood that income from tuition and fees will become proportionately so small as to scuttle the ship.

Tuition charges never meet academic costs; and because of this every student receives a substantial subsidy each semester from the college. It has been well stated that the largest scholarship fund in America arises from the salary scale meant for college administration and faculty. In order to survive, Christian colleges, then, will have to raise tuition charges so that the students will continue to carry a proportionately fair part of the cost of their education.

A balanced budget, however, cannot be based alone on tuition and fees. Christian colleges must effect an increasingly thorough budgetary control of all operations. By efficiency and economy, the standard of Christian stewardship can be greatly heightened. Prayer and proper promotion are imperative, along with the conscientious and careful use of all available funds.

The temptation in days to come will be for Christian colleges to go along with the crowd in demanding federal aid for higher education. That trend may seem to promise a pot of gold at the end of some distant and evanescent government rainbow; but that is the way of bondage.

The danger of deterioration in facilities and finances can be greatly decreased and even eliminated by alumni loyalty and increased giving on the part of the Christian constituency. The most obvious kind of help is that of scholarships which aid the student directly. Since the actual cost of the college in providing higher education far exceeds the charge made for tuition, it is equally important that there be generous helpfulness for the general maintenance of the college. On that point the President’s Committee, concerned with broadening college opportunities for young people, noted “the important distinction between aiding the student to get a good college education and aiding the college to give one. Both efforts must be kept in balance.”

Danger Of Deviation

The third danger to a Christian college is that of deviation. A college may continue to increase in faculty members and students, and in finances or facilities; but if it ignores the compass of Christian convictions, it can drift off its course. The careful captain will not ignore his compass, nor allow it to become inaccurate because of immediate circumstances. He will steer by the stars, and be unafraid of tempests or adverse tides. The college administrator will steer his ship by the compass and not become concerned by the criticisms or compliments made by others. He has learned that some who make the loudest Christian claims are often the least Christian in consistency and charity. He will steer steadily on the determined course without deviation to starboard or larboard. Only that way will the Christian college survive.

Deviation can arise not only through departure from Christian convictions of faith and practice, of Christian purposes and principles, but also from a lack of responsibility on the part of the college to its Christian constituency. History shows us the peril that occurs when a Christian college determines to depart from the faith of its founding fathers. In the past some have veered from the faith without that deviation being known immediately to the godly parents of students or Christians supporting the college.

That danger of irresponsibility to one’s constituency can be avoided only as a Christian college maintains its Christian convictions and continues on its appointed course. With good conscience toward God and man, it must maintain the faith of the fathers and its faithfulness to its friends. It does well to keep its constituency informed of its progress and its problems; but it does well to nail its colors to the mast and then to be true to those colors.

There is more danger, however, that a Christian college will drift off course than make definite decisions so to do. My study of American colleges leads me to the conclusion that deviation from Christian persuasion and principle always begins at the top; that is, spiritual decay starts in the trustees and administration; and not in the student body. It is therefore of greatest importance that Christian colleges exercise care in admitting only committed and conscientious Christians as trustees and officers of the college.

It is imperative that the Christian college know itself, the heritage of its past, the Christian persuasion of its founding fathers, and stand proud thereof, in the right sense. Each generation ought to consist of Christians who are true to themselves and especially to the Saviour. Well did Solomon make the observation: “Remove not the ancient landmarks which thy fathers have set.”

The Christian college must also be itself, not a pale copy of some publicly-supported college or university. While offering education on the highest academic level, it must remain thoroughly Christian in its philosophy of education, its practice, and its objectives. In the determination of its policies, it must persist in its application to current problems. That is, it must determine its size, its basic organization, its curriculum, and its graduation requirements, while, above all, maintaining a high spiritual standard for the entire college family.

With devotion to duty and dedication to appointed task; with diligence in performing responsibility and delight in leading young hearts in the Way Everlasting, the Christian college can and will survive.

V. Raymond Edman since 1941 has been President of Wheaton College, Illinois, which for a century has stood as a symbol of Christian education in the American republic. He holds the B.A. degree from Boston University, A.M. and Ph.D. from Clark University. He is author of Light in Dark Ages, Finney Lives On, Storms and Starlight, and other works.

If an ardent progressivist or experimentalist, or functionalist, were to describe a traditionalist, he would probably come through with a picture like this:

He is a medievalist. He arrogates authority to himself because of something he calls reason. But you must know that this reason of his is anything but the scientific verification of evidence. It is a sort of hypostatization of his own a priori and factually unsupported personal opinion. He is a blind conservative. He talks such jargon as mental discipline, formal discipline, memory, faculty psychology, transfer of training, ancient languages, and good grammar. He talks also of the training of the mind, as though the mind were an insoluble entity and thinks of that mind, not as an active principle of dynamic energy, but as a warehouse that must be stuffed full of data. He seems never to have discovered along with the late Professor Dewey that “mind is primarily a verb” if, indeed, it be distinguishable at all from experience itself, and that man is a gregarious animal whose natural habitat for growth is society. He ignores the environment and the situation, and ignores our actual needs for life-adjustment and for swift adaptation to the changing needs of a changing society. He likes to quote the oldtimers; Pope, for instance: “The proper study of mankind is man,” or Roger Ascham: “Learning teacheth more in one year than experience in twenty.” He is that sort of fellow who might have a place in a closed universe, the closed society and mind of medieval Europe; but since modernity has opened up, we shall have to abandon Ascham in favor of Pater who said, “Not the fruit of experience but experience itself is the end.”

Such is the cartoon that a nettled progressivist of the New Education might draw of a traditionalist education. Now, what is the portrait like, what is such traditionalism really like?

Its main feature, I think, its leading idea, is its idea of man. That idea is, frankly, a religious and philosophical one. Traditionalism knows, of course, that man is natural, and that in this nature he is a creature subject to the laws and circumstances of the natural order. But traditional education is insistent that man is an horizon in which two worlds meet, the natural and the spiritual. And it holds that it is in his spiritual character that man’s characteristically human nature consists.

I call attention to some of the major traditionalist emphases, some of those, namely, in which there is often a clash with the emphases of the New Education.

Knowledge Or Ability?

Let me put the first one this way: Knowledge is more important than ability. Because it is by truth, by reality, by revelation, that man’s mind is formed, patterned, and fulfilled, traditional education holds that content is important, that subject matter matters. Now this idea that an organized program of studies, representative of reality, representative, too, of a hierarchy of importances, should be followed out in schools and colleges, is an idea which is under formidable threat in American education. In some states we have in recent years made an arrangement, known as a college agreement plan, by which the colleges of the state are asked to agree that they will admit students from high schools irrespective of the content and organization of courses pursued. The idea is: not what a student has had, nor in connection with what he has had it, but what ability he generated in handling it. That’s animal training—you can do it with a horse. History? No, couldn’t see any use in it. Foreign languages? Look, I’m going to be a business executive; I can hire a Mexican if I have to know Spanish. Science? A little physiology. English? Yeah, I had some of that. But the grade is good. The boy must have handled his social attitudes skillfully. What can you do with him in college? Why, whet some more ability, of course.

Traditional education never operated that way. “The crucial error,” says Robert M. Hutchins, “is that of holding that nothing is more important than anything else, that there can be no other order of intellectual goods … nothing central, nothing peripheral, nothing basic, and nothing superficial.” Nothing but method, technique, ability, and training, without any mastery of basic instrument-knowledges, without any discipline in either scientific or philosophical-theoretical thinking, and without any confrontation of the student by that world of history and culture in which the mind can realize and universalize itself and fulfill its humanness. “In such conditions,” says Hutchins, “the course of study goes to pieces, because there is nothing to hold it together.” It does. Lacking the principle of the underlying unity of all knowledge, the curriculum breaks the bounds of rational system and spreads out over phenomena. Scales, hierarchies of importance go by the board. Mr. Tenenbaum, biographer of Kilpatrick, exponent in turn of Mr. Dewey, records this experience: [“I have] seen a class of 600 and more graduate students in education, comprising teachers, principals, superintendents, vote their opinion in overwhelming numbers, that Greek, Latin, and mathematics offered the least likely possibilities for educational growth; and with almost the same unanimity they placed dancing, dramatics, and doll playing high on this list in this regard.” The curriculum goes to pieces. I suggest that traditional education with its imitation of nature, its intrinsic respect for reality, rightly insisted on a rationally determined content and organization of courses. It was right in preferring natural philosophy, moral philosophy, and divinity to courses in practical skills, in social attitudes, in community values, and in “character education.” It is reality that patterns the mind; it is truth that forms and fulfills.

Object Of Education

That takes us to a second emphasis, a corollary of the traditionalist insistence that content matters. It is this, also greatly threatened by the contemporary educational theory and practice: namely, that the object of education is more important than the subject in the training of the teacher. I mean that in the training of the teacher, history is more important than Johnny. Modern education owes a great deal to the psychological study of the pupil and the correspondingly required methods most effective in teaching him. I, too, blush for some of the crimes committed by stupid traditionalists on the dawning intellect, and the spiritual intuition, and the creative reach, and the aspirations to the freedom of understanding, of the young schoolboy. Shakespeare suffered it out, and spoke afterwards of “the whining schoolboy with his satchel and shining morning face creeping like a snail unwillingly to school.” We have learned from some of the moderns that interest is indispensable to learning, though many an ancient, Socrates, for example, including that old Roger Ascham, had guessed as much. But the source of the interest is not the pupil, nor the teacher, but the truth. A man has an affinity for the truth. The teacher must stand before the pupil in the authority of the truth. He begins with insights, not merely with difficulties. He must be educated in truth before he is trained in teaching. Johnny, as an object of known man, is not as important a subject as Homer, and the teacher should know Homer before he knows Johnny, and indeed, in order to know Johnny. The tendency and the fact in our time of some teacher training schools to segregate people who plan to teach from other people, to give them psychology limited to empirically observable data about pupils, and to support this by as many methods courses as there are subjects in the modern curriculum, are well calculated to produce teachers who do not have the authority of mind. For it is the object of knowledge, rather than the pupil, the teacher, or the method, that must do the educating.

Culture Versus Nature

A third traditionalist emphasis is its predilection for what are called the humanities. As I see it, traditional education considers culture a more important medium for education than nature. It also fosters natural science, of course, for natural science richly rewards the student with a human knowledge of phenomena and of the principles which explain them. But nature as an object of knowledge can be regarded as standing lower in the order of reality than culture as an object of knowledge, for the reason that in this subject the human, the moral, the free, the rational element is itself present. The substitution, therefore, of an exclusively scientific education for a humanistic education, or the subordination of the humanities to the sciences, or the teaching of the humanities as natural sciences—and one or another of these possibilities obtains in many schools—can represent an abandonment of the traditionalist idea of man. The last is perhaps the greatest threat, namely, the naturalization of history, society, politics, law, literature, and the like, by transforming them into studies of natural, cultural, or social circumstance.

Value Of Letters

That point, too, as a fourth consideration, has a corollary, perhaps, in the traditional insistence on the educational value of books, letters, humane letters, great books, classics. These seem to traditionalists to have authority, to be their own embodiments of what a colleague calls the “funded wisdom” of the ages, vital, quickening, redolent of truth, the sort of thing to which mind leaps up in recognition of mind, in which mind enlarges and deepens itself, realizes itself. Of course you can ask on whose authority they are so great. Arnold called them the best that has been said and thought. Huxley in philosophical skepticism turned away from them as being matters of opinion. Huxley said, “Science appeals not to authority,” as humane letters do, “but to nature.” He identified nature with phenomenal, empirically observable reality. He was wrong. First, because nature is not science until mind has intervened. Next, because good mind is a good authority to appeal to. Now the classics are precisely large and comprehensive human readings of life. They chart the course of the human spirit, and exhibit alternative answers to man’s religious and philosophical quest. In them, as Wordsworth said, there is the breath and finer spirit of knowledge, the soul of science, the steady and whole view, the harvesting of history in its concrete actuality. It is just the thing to quicken the mind’s yearnings for fulfillment, to satisfy the inner beholding of truth. To supplant them by experience, life, laboratories, or textbooks, though they may well be supplemented by these, is to denominate something other than knowledge the end of education.

Three R’S Make Sense

One is not, naturally, going to have access to such funded wisdom in the classics unless one can read. I make it a fifth point. The traditionalist holds that the three R’s make sense. Consider then whether there be not some departure from an idea of the uniqueness of human nature in such an utterance as this, which was addressed by a principal to the National Association of Secondary School Principals. He was being progressive with a vengeance: “When we come,” he said “to the realization that not every child has to read, figure, write, and spell … we shall be on the way to improving the Junior High School curriculum. We shall some day accept the fact that it is just as illogical to assume that every boy must be able to read as that each one must be able to perform on the violin, that it is no more reasonable to require that each girl shall learn to spell than it is that each one shall learn to bake a cherry pie.” Certainly it would seem that when the doctrine of individual difference, of unique aptitude and interest reaches such a point, it cuts itself off from that common core of studies so long held to be the sine qua non of the education of democratic people.

Language As Spiritual Art

The traditionalist, to make another point now, wants foreign languages in education as part of his learning the first R, that is reading. He wants them not for reasons of trade and holiday. He wants them not solely for their utility in research. He wants them mainly because he thinks that an adequately philosophical mind is not possible unless it is disciplined by the rationality or logic of the literature of our civilized West. It wants foreign languages, and particular foreign languages, for Arnold’s reason when he said: “The civilized world (the only kind in which mind can be educated and community is possible) is to be regarded as now being, for intellectual purposes, one great confederation, whose members have for their proper outfit a knowledge of Greek, Roman, and Eastern antiquity, and of one another.” Presumably this knowledge is not just a knowledge about, but a knowledge of. It is not just information. It is a sharing of mind unified by something like a common idea. This idea forms us. We need it for our self-fulfillment. The best cultures represent that idea best. They would seem to be the Greek, the Roman, the German, and the French. And this too. Language, unless one abstracts it from reality to the point at which it becomes a mechanical signal system, is one of the spiritual arts. It reveals reality, truth: it speaks to mind, mind responds to it. But then there must be no divorce between the sign and the thought signified. Traditional education thought of the two as a unit, so that as Shakespeare said, language can be called the discourse of reason. “I endowed thy purposes with words that made them known,” said Shakespeare. There is rationality in language.

A final emphasis. The new education makes so much of the social situation. That is good. The older education made much of the social in man also. But at this point we must be careful lest the social become again nothing more than a conditioning environment, such as the soil is to a plant. One does not get humanity, in the sense of the freedom of the human spirit, back into education, by simply assuring himself that the environment is not natural but social. For the social is hardly distinguishable from the natural if one does not acknowledge that society, human society, as distinguished from instinctively gregarious animal groups, is achieved by free consent. There must be interiority of the personal self, personal conscience, deep-seated independence if there is to be society. Hence, as Maritain puts it, the essence of education does not lie in adapting a potential citizen to the conditions and interactions of social life, but in first making man, and by this very fact in preparing a citizen. Otherwise society is a force, and man is its victim.

We Quote:

NORMAN COUSINS

Editor, The Saturday Review

The young men who designed the government of the United States—many of them were in their thirties—were a talented and influential group of joiners.… The young American giants knew how to put men and ideas together. They connected their spiritual beliefs to political action. They saw no walls separating science, philosophy, religion, and art.—In God We Trust: The Religious Beliefs and Ideas of the American Founding Fathers, Harper, 1958, p. 1.

Henry Zylstra, Professor of English at Calvin College from 1947 to 1956, was serving as Fulbright Professor of Comparative Literature at the Free University at Amsterdam at the time of his death in December 1956. He held his Ph.D. from Harvard University, had also studied at Iowa State, and was the recipient of a Ford Foundation Fellowship in 1955. This article is an excerpt from a chapter of selected writings recently published under the tittle Testament of Vision (Eerdmans).