In the Christian, classical renewal movement we often draw the distinction between an education focused on information and an education focused on formation. Education in information focuses on the dissemination of facts, critical thinking skills, and beefing up the intellect, while education for formation prioritizes the process of developing a certain type of person. Both information and formation are important, of course, so which is right?
Well, that depends on what humans essentially are. If humans are, at core, cognitive creatures, then it makes sense to focus exclusively on the intellect. This was the predominant view of modernism. Influenced by the Age of Reason and the notable success of empirical science, modern schools adopted a, generally speaking, intellect-only attitude toward learning. They drew a distinction between facts and values and insisted that only empirically-grounded facts could be studied. Everything else was dismissed as mere emotional conditioning.
In the classical tradition, however, the idea never gained traction that a human can be reduced to a brain on a stick. Instead, philosophers like Plato espoused a tripartite portrait of human beings: humans possess intellectual, affective, and appetitive components. The formative purpose of education for Plato is to shape humans to be virtuous, that is, to develop proper affections that will empower reason to subdue the appetites of the flesh. Or, as C.S. Lewis put it in The Abolition of Man, education prepares a human to use the head to rule the belly through the chest.
In this blog article, I will explore the idea that a truly formative education shapes not only our moral strength, but our very affective desires. Drawing on the work of James K.A. Smith, I will show how habits shape desires and the object of our deepest desires reveals who we are becoming. Educators, therefore, must think carefully about the practices put on repeat in their schools and how these habituated practices are shaping the very affections of their students.
Creatures Who Worship
In Desiring the Kingdom (Baker Academic, 2009), Calvin College philosophy professor James K.A. Smith argues that humans are liturgical creatures. In other words, the longing to worship is a central feature of what it means to be human. The question is not whether we will worship, but what or whom we will worship. Deep within our bones is a desire to love and experience the transcendent. Until this desire is fulfilled, we remain restless, hungry, and unfulfilled. As St. Augustine put it in Confessions, “You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our hearts are restless until they rest in you.”
In our modern secular world, religion may be on the decline, but our longings to experience transcendent fulfillment are not. Pointing to ongoing zeal for the market, malls, and the military, Smith offers three examples to demonstrate that when humans displace God as the object of our deepest desires, we replace Him with lesser goods. And when traditional religious rituals are excised, they are replaced with secular rituals, repeated affection-shaping practices, all the same. The diligent repetition of these practices is precisely how we keep the zeal for the objects of our desires intact.
Shaping Affections Through Habits
Now, on the surface, it may seem that humans wake up each and every day with the volition to choose what they will love and to what degree. But what Smith points out is that our loves are largely directed and aimed by habits already in play. These habits not only determine how we spend our time, but what we grow to love and, ultimately, what good life, or future kingdom, we envision to pursue.
Imagine, for example, the young man who begins each morning with phone in hand, checking last night’s scores across the National Basketball Association (NBA). He reads game summaries, notes individual player statistics, and checks the standings in each regional division. Finally, he scours the web for the latest updates on his favorite team, the Chicago Bulls.
After a half an hour on the glowing rectangle, he rolls out of bed and prepares for the day. On the way to work, he listens to sports radio, recapping last night’s events, and looks forward to lunch break when he can discuss the latest NBA drama with his coworkers. He works diligently throughout the day and rewards himself every hour with a short excursion on his sports news app to preview the games scheduled for that evening.
On the way home from work, he self-injects one more dose of sports radio, and thinks about whether he will watch the upcoming games at home or at a restaurant with friends. Pulling into the garage, he checks his text messages and the decision is confirmed. He pulls his Chicago Bulls jersey on and heads off to the local pub and is greeted warmly by his fellow religionists–I mean– fans.
Which Good Life? Whose Kingdom?
A cursory analysis of this everyday scenario would dismiss it as simply the story of a young man who enjoys professional basketball and supporting his local sports team. When we dig deeper, however, we see how his day is saturated with habits formed through practices that are training his desires and fueling his imagination. Checking his phone first thing in the morning, listening to sports radio on his drive into work, conversing with friends on the topic over a meal, and donning the ceremonial garb (a sports jersey) in the evening are habits which subtly reinforce who he is and what he longs for.
If he keeps this routine up, his devotion will only grow and with it his longing to re-experience day after day this vision of the good life. It slowly becomes part of who he is and brings a fulfillment that nothing else can. The path is set, with bricks composed of habits paving the way. His desires are honed in on the target and only the installation of new habits, humanly-speaking, can change the direction of the kingdom he is seeking.
Desiring the Heavenly Kingdom
LIke the basketball devotee, our schools are honing in on a certain target or vision of the good life, and this target is regularly reinforced through practices. For economically-prosperous countries in the West, it is very difficult to escape the attractive kingdom of wealth and materialism. This vision of the good life promises so much: comfort, popularity, acceptance, recognition, experiences, and the like.
But if our schools are to remain distinctively Christian we must look beyond this earthly kingdom in order to fix our eyes on something greater: the kingdom of God. What does this kingdom look like?
In his first letter to the Corinthians, the apostle Paul writes:
For consider your calling, brothers: not many of you were wise according to worldly standards, not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth. But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world, even things that are not, to bring to nothing things that are, so that no human being might boast in the presence of God. And because of him you are in Christ Jesus, who became to us wisdom from God, righteousness and sanctification and redemption, so that, as it is written, ‘Let the one who boasts, boast in the Lord.’
1 Corinthians 1:26-31 (ESV)
It seems to me that this passage captures the essence of the heavenly kingdom. It is a kingdom composed of citizens who do not pretend to be of high-repute or worldly honor. They do not view themselves as deserving of either God’s grace or cultural recognition. They see the promises of the world for what they truly are: empty siren songs designed to stroke the ego, meanwhile the rocks of destruction grow ever closer.
The vision for the good life we desire as Christians, and pray for our students to desire, is marked by hailing the power of Jesus. Our Lord Jesus, “God from God, Light from Light,” descended into this world to bring the kingdom of heaven, marked by baptism, self-denial, forgiveness of sin, and the hope of resurrection.
Liturgies in our Schools
Smith proposes that we can determine the kingdoms our schools are oriented toward by taking inventory of its daily liturgies. By liturgies, he means the thick practices that shape our vision of a kingdom. For example, the liturgies of the basketball fan described above are his morning routine on his phone catching up on all the highlights, connecting with his friends at lunch on the topic, and scheduling his evenings around the upcoming games schedule. These liturgies–practices with desire-shaping and imagination-fueling power–shape his vision of what he longs for most.
So what liturgies exist in our schools? What repeated practices seem to bear the greatest influence over the culture of the student body? Over the parent community? Over faculty and staff? Are these liturgies oriented toward kingdom values of lifting up the name of Christ, growing more holy, and learning as a way of bringing honor to God? Or are our school liturgies at present spreading the gospel of a different kingdom, perhaps marked by academic repute, cultural acceptance, and worldly achievement?
Diagnostic Questions for Christian Educators to Consider:
To help you as a Christian educator discern with the Spirit’s aid what liturgies exist in your school and what liturgies don’t yet exist, here are some probing questions to consider:
- What repeated practices seem to have the most influence in your school? What do students get most excited about? Why?
- What can you have students do, and do on repeat, to help them learn about and grow in their desire for the kingdom?
- What thick practices of the church are appropriate to bring into your school while respecting the unique place the local church is to play in the life of believers?
- How can the practices you implement in your school be distinctively counter-cultural, yet perhaps not anti-cultural? In what ways is your school practicing baptismal renunciation and cultural abstention? What are you saying “no” to?
- How are you using instructional time to shape student affections for the kingdom? How can you incorporate embodied learning practices into your lessons?
- How are using non-instructional time to shape student affections? What practices exist in the hallways, during passing periods and lunch times, and at recess?
Conclusion
These are challenging questions to be sure and, more than anything, they are designed to give us pause to reflect on our craft. To shape student affections for the kingdom, teaching a Christian worldview is not enough. Offering Bible classes is not enough. A weekly chapel is not enough. These are necessary components to be sure, but, they are mostly cognitive strategies when the students in our classrooms are affective creatures. In order to reach affective creatures, we need affective strategies–approaches to education that reach the heart. These will be strategies that acknowledge our embodiment and see the connections between what we do, what we long for, and therefore, who we are becoming. May we as educators continue seek first the kingdom of God, and as we do so, invite our students to join us on the journey.
