The Abbot and the Teacher 5

In my last post, reflecting on 64:7 of Benedict’s Rule, I recognized that I will have to give an account of how I took care of the gift of my students. Was I a good steward while they were in my care? Was I a bridge to truth, goodness, and beauty? Or was I an obstacle? 

In 64:8 of the Rule, Benedict says the faithful abbot must be careful in setting his goals. Instead of seeking authority and exercising power for his own preeminence, his goal ought to be “profit for the monks.” Benedict’s wisdom here is useful for a teacher — perhaps especially for a college professor.  

Like everyone else with a PhD, my credentials are supposed to mean that I am competent to advance knowledge in my discipline. In my case, this means theology. And like many professors in the humanities, I support my work in my discipline by teaching undergraduate students. The trouble with this arrangement is that most of my students believe that what I have to teach them is pointless.  

So, I’m in a tight spot. On the one hand, I’m supposedly an expert in my area of theology (ethics, Catholic social teaching). On the other hand, very few people care. In other words, I stand between two extremes: the human passion for knowledge of the highest realities, and the human ability to dismiss the highest realities as irrelevant. I make a living right there in that in-between space. And I make my living by doing two things at once: teaching the content of a discipline I love and trying to convince my students that my discipline is worth loving. 

One way to avoid the discomfort of living and working in this in-between space is to insist on my own preeminence. I have the PhD, so I have the floor, so you have to listen to me. I worked hard for this knowledge, so, in my courses, I will make you suffer the way I suffered. What you need to do in my classes is memorize everything I have to say and repeat it back to me. By this, everyone will know that you are my students. 

But another way to navigate the discomfort of living and working in this in-between space is to insist on profit for my students. Like all of my students, I am a human. I know how restless my heart is, how hungry for truth, goodness, and beauty I am. My hunger is what drove me to get a PhD in the first place. I doubt very many of my students will go on to get PhDs in anything, let alone theology. But I have no doubt that each one of my students has a restless heart that is hungry for truth, goodness, and beauty. 

Facing this reality, I am free to insist on myself and demand to be taken seriously. But I am also free to help my students learn to hear and to take their own lives seriously. Right now, it seems to me that my students’ profit is the more reasonable goal.