I’ve been exploring the life of Jesus from the vantage point of his teaching ministry in order to gain insight into methods that would inform our own pedagogy. Interestingly, this exploration took me to Jesus as learner, especially during his formative pre-ministry years as a disciple of John the Baptist. In considering John the Baptist as teacher and Jesus as learner, there are some interesting ideas worthy of consideration as philosophers of education.
John the Baptist as Teacher
John the Baptist lived an austere lifestyle. He adhered to asceticism, wearing garments made of camel hair and restricting his diet to locusts and wild honey (Mark 1:6). John’s ministry lines up with the classic prophets of the Old Testament, as seen in his challenge of the political and religious elite in Jerusalem, but also in the manner of his address. For instance, he says of himself, “I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness,” clearly alluding to Isaiah 40:3 (John 1:23). John the Baptist as a teacher draws upon the way in which discipleship or mentoring was modeled among many of the classic prophets. Martin Hengel notes particularly the relationship between Elijah and Elisha in his book The Charismatic Leader and His Followers. Hengel’s point was that Jesus calling his own disciples mirrored that of the OT prophetic tradition (see in particular pp. 17-18). This model, though, is likewise helpful in understanding John the Baptist, who also had a group of disciples (John 1:35), including Jesus of Nazareth.
John’s role as a teacher of Jesus might seem a bit of a stretch, given that John is never depicted as teaching Jesus. But the evidence that John played a formative role in Jesus’ life is seen in his inclusion at the beginning of all four gospels, right at the conclusion of Jesus formative years. Jesus’ baptism by John points to the familiarity between the two. In Jesus’ baptism at the hands of John there is simultaneously a submission on Jesus’ part to John as well as a recognition by John of Jesus’ superior role and mission. J. Ramsey Michaels bases the discipleship of Jesus to John on the phrase “he who comes after (ὀπίσω) me.” E. P. Sanders concludes after a close study of John 1-3, that Jesus’ mission “while independent of that of the Baptist’s, is similar in nature and near in locale.” The scholarly consensus is that Jesus spent some amount of time as a disciple of John before beginning his own ministry, but this consensus has not gone unchallenged. A recent PhD thesis at Edinburgh proposes that Jesus in all probability did not spend any time as a disciple of John. Max Alpin’s reasoning is essentially based on the fact that “Jesus had great confidence in his beliefs,” meaning “we simply would not expect him to have chosen to submit himself to John’s leadership.” In my estimation, there seems to be no problem with an individual having great confidence in his beliefs submitting to the teaching of a prominent religious figure. I think the prominent role John the Baptist plays at the beginning of all four gospels points to an essential influence John had on Jesus to frame his early ministry. The gospel of John elaborates by hints a closer connection, showing that Jesus chose his own first disciples from among John’s disciples (John 1:25). Seeing Jesus’ early ministry in light of time spent learning from John provides insights into some key moments in the gospels.
John’s message was simple: ““Repent, for the kingdom of Heaven is at hand” (Matt. 3:2). People came from far and near to hear John and some received baptism, while others scoffed. The message is expressed with simplicity, yet is full of meaning. There is the call to listeners to an active response. The imminence of God’s heavenly kingdom evokes an emotional factor eliciting hope or impending doom. When we look at Jesus’ ministry, we see he proclaims the very same message. Matthew records Jesus first message: “Repent, for the kingdom of Heaven is at hand” (Matt. 4:17). Now this wasn’t a rote, memorized, dry recitation. Jesus’ proclamation has all of the conviction and passion that John expressed. The point, though, is that we have in this shared message a link between teacher and student. Viewed from the vantage point of models of communication, we can verify that the teacher’s message has been properly decoded and assimilated. John the Baptist, his role as predecessor completed, recedes into the background in the Gospels, perhaps as we would expect in a story centering on Jesus himself.
Jesus as Learner
Jesus as learner is a remarkable reality when we take into account his divine and human natures. Consider that the fullness of God (all knowledge, all power, everywhere present) became incarnate in a helpless baby (no knowledge, vulnerably powerless, physically present in one location). Paul expresses this as making himself “nothing” (Phil. 2:7). This humiliation meant that Jesus had to learn information he had called into existence. The author of all language had to acquire a mother tongue as we did. He learned the trade of carpentry from his father. He devoted himself to learning the very scriptures that he had inspired and that pointed to himself.
I think the incarnation tells us something profound about learning. Jesus entered fully into our human experience, validating something fundamental to our nature: to be human is to be a learner. We can fall prey to the notion that education is temporary, something to finish early in our youth before getting on with “real” life. True, much that has to be learned occurs early in life. Jesus’ training under John the Baptist was limited to a definite span of time followed by Jesus’ own career as a teacher. But Jesus’ learning is not isolated to his formative years. Hebrews 5:8 provides the insight that he learned obedience through his sufferings. Helmut Koester explains that “Jesus was never disobedient to God,” but that Jesus was able to “demonstrate obedience” by encountering difficult situations in his humanity “where the will of God was challenged and obedience was required.” In other words, the entirety of Jesus’ incarnate human experience was a learning experience, captured by the Greek word μανθάνω in Heb. 5:8. All of his life experiences, particularly those which caused him to suffer, were learning experiences. At one level, we can imagine that Jesus divesting himself of divine attributes to become human flesh (Phil. 2:7), was a form of suffering through the new limitations encountered in bodily form. But we can also point to the sufferings chronicled leading up to his crucifixion. The author of Hebrews makes this connection in 9:26, concluding that Jesus’ sufferings culminated in a one-time sacrifice to “put away sin.” His entire life was a learning experience (just as his entire life is a teaching experience, but that is a topic for another time).
Learning is a profound aspect of human nature. Part of being image bearers is that we are learners. God incarnates himself in Christ into this nature. We must throw off the conception that learning is either for the ignorant or for only a short period of life. If learning is part of our nature, then all of life contains opportunities to learn. Learning doesn’t just occur in the classroom, but also in all possible spaces and throughout all possible ages. There is always something new to learn. This is not a result of the fall, but it is an essential aspect of our nature. In the Garden, prior to the fall, we see learning occur as God instructs the first man to obey the command to not eat of the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil (Gen. 2:16-17). Calvin refers to this event as “a kind of first lesson in obedience.” There is yet another moment of applied learning as God brings all the animals before the first man to be named (Gen. 2:19).
Learning and Teaching as Followers of Jesus
Today we have a tendency to treat education as a means to an end. Learning occurs for a brief spell at the beginning of life so that one can accomplish things later in life. Jesus’ incarnation as a learner, however, shows us that learning is something inherent to us as humans. Therefore, we must be careful not to compartmentalize learning as something to finish so that we can get on with the business of living life. The utility of education cannot be made to overshadow our human longing to learn. Learning is a creative and generative endeavor that reflects our own creation in the image of God. In light of this, we can consider several principles that enlighten our understanding of the nature and goals of education.
First, God’s revelation to humanity occurs through language. We see this first illustrated in Genesis 1 as all of creation is spoken into being by divine expression. The reflection on the incarnation found in the gospel of John expresses Jesus as the Word made flesh (John 1:14). Not only in the fact of God revealing himself to his creation, but also in the means by which he reveals himself, education and learning are essential aspects of our relationship with God. Divine truth is disseminated in language we can comprehend, making it possible for us to learn. This doesn’t mean that it is easy to learn God’s self-disclosure. That is why education must cultivate the intellect. God’s word is not only to be read, but also reflected upon, interpreted and applied. This is not to say that the spirit does not guide understanding of the text (a point which we’ll turn to momentarily), but we can at least say that a trained intellect is predicated upon the manner by which God reveals himself.
Second, through the incarnation God demonstrates his empathetic care for people. Jesus became human in the most vulnerable, helpless and powerless manner possible as a baby. Emptying himself of divine attributes, he enters into human experience and knows our sufferings (Heb. 2:18). Because of this, as the author of Hebrews drives home, Jesus is able to carry out his priestly role, supplicating for humanity because he knows through what he has learned, but also because his perfect life and divine nature gives him access to the throne of God that we ourselves lack apart from him. Empathetic care, then, must be a chief educational goal. Students must learn to care for God (reverence) and for other people (respect). Our daily work in each of our subjects must be imbued with care and devotion. We can cultivate a sense of our own priestly role in the world as caretakers of creation.
Third, Jesus, by entering into human form, entered into human structures of authority. Jesus became a child within a family, submitting himself within the hierarchy of the relationship between parents and children. Jesus at various points also recognized other authority structures, by having people he healed become cleansed by the priests (Luke 17:14), or by rendering to Caesar what is Caesar’s (Matt. 22:21). We all live in hierarchies of authority, and Jesus entered into this aspect of our humanity as well. Learning the proper response to authority is an essential aspect of education. Obedience begins with self-discipline, learning to do what we ought in the face of competing desires to do what we want. But we must also learn how to obey teachers, employers, church authorities, government regulations. In order for these hierarchical relationships to work properly, roles of submission and authority have to be recognized. It is certainly the case that power and authority have been abused, and pushing back against authority in such cases can correct wrongs. But the throwing off of authority is not the normal operating procedure, it runs counter to our nature as humans. Jesus himself suffered from power wielded against him, but he still entered into our human structures. Considering who Jesus is, we can further explore this concept of authority. All authority is derived from some higher authority, a progression that eventually leads us to the authority that resides in God himself. Whatever role we think of—judge, president, teacher, parent—has a delegated or deputed authority to carry out whatever the role demands. The incarnation of Jesus Christ places the ultimate authority (God himself) within the hierarchy of authority. I think this points to something good and right about hierarchies of authority.
Fourth, human beings are soulful creatures, part of God’s physical creation, but spiritual just as He is. The temptation for those of us in education is to divide humans into physical, spiritual, emotional and intellectual components. We do damage to our students, though, when cut them apart in this way. We too often appeal to the intellect without consideration of the whole person. A child properly educated grows in all ways, in every part of their being. Caring for the whole being of our students means we help them develop a personal understanding of physical conditioning, of well ordered affections, and of their spiritual nature. By solely teaching to the intellect, we ask the student to sit still, to quiet their emotions, and, yes, our lectures lack spirit. Jesus taking on human flesh shows us our multifaceted nature. Not only do we see intellect, but emotions, physicality, and, of course, spirit.
Conclusion
It is with reverence that we contemplate the mysteries of the incarnation. Too many heresies attempted to sell short Jesus’ nature without fully articulating his divinity or his humanity. This meditation on Jesus as a learner obviously highlights his human nature, but hopefully not at the expense of his full divine nature. I believe the value we gain bears fruit in understanding our own nature as image bearers. We as teachers are created in the image of God, and we teach others created in the image of God. Jesus’ incarnation, his suffering, his death, his resurrection, all are part of the plan to accomplish our redemption. Jesus’ life also provides for us principles that can guide us as educators, giving us a robust educational philosophy.
Excellent!