How Do I Get My Student to Study Scripture and Practice Spiritual Disciplines? An Example Exercise

I started teaching a new class this year. I originally designed it for 7th graders, but I ended up needing to make it work for a combined class of 11th and 12th graders as well. Like almost all new courses, there are things that are going really well, and things that will need tweaking, or scrapping altogether.

One of the assignments I've been happiest with in theory, but which has proved a challenge to get students complete with consistency, is the weekly "theological meditations and digests." The idea is to have students begin forming regular habits of reading their Bible, using spiritual authorities to help them understand and gain insights from the passage, and practice a spiritual discipline. The students have a journal in which they copy the Scripture and a brief comment from two Church Fathers or theologians. In class we'll recite our daily prayers, I'll read the passage and comments, and then they'll spend a few minutes completing the "digest," which is their participation in, or a reflection upon their participation in, the spiritual discipline for the week. Part of the difficulty is that each class only meets twice a week, so consistency in practice is hard to achieve. Here's an example of the meditation and digest:

Week 8 Meditations

The Epistle of James

Days Fifteen and Sixteen

James 3:13-18 – Who is wise and understanding among you? Let him show by good conduct that his works are done in the meekness of wisdom. 14 But if you have bitter envy and self-seeking in your hearts, do not boast and lie against the truth. 15 This wisdom does not descend from above, but is earthly, sensual, demonic. 16 For where envy and self- seeking exist, confusion and every evil thing are there. 17 But the wisdom that is from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, willing to yield, full of mercy and good fruits, without partiality and without hypocrisy. 18 Now the fruit of righteousness is sown in peace by those who make peace.

Chrysostom comments:
Let us cleanse the eyes of our souls of all filth. For just as filth and mud blind the eyes of the flesh, so too worldly concerns and discussions about moneymaking can dull the hearing of our minds more effectively than any filth, and not only corrupt them but do wicked things as well. (Catena)

Desiderius Erasmus comments:
Human-made philosophy produces professors who are captious, obstinate, and ferocious. But the more sincere, the more effective evangelical philosophy becomes, the less it is marked by arrogance. Its special force is located not in syllogistic subtleties or rhetorical trappings, but in sincerity of life and gentleness of character, which gives way to the contentious, attracts the docile, and has no other object than the salvation of its hearers. It is a heavenly wisdom. (Paraphrase on James 3:13-18)

Digest: The Discipline of Gratitude
Reflect on the areas of your life where you complain the most. How can you be thankful for these circumstances rather than complaining? Ask God to help you discover gratitude in these areas where you tend to complain.

I've had a few diligent students in the 7th grade who've kept up with their journals each week, but a number of them aren't careful enough to remember to take their journal home consistently and complete the copy work required. Part of the problem there, I suspect, is that some parents expect their student to be an independent worker, but haven't anticipated (or prepared their child for) the necessities of that responsibility. In my own home, I have a 7th grader, and while we've preached organization and discipline, he still forgets and is controlled more by his immediate appetites than the impetus of responsibilities. However, knowing this, I've made it a point to provide a routine he must follow so that he doesn't have the option to forget (as long as he doesn't leave his journal in his locker!). The older students have proven much more consistent in their diligence, but I haven't discovered whether the assignment is bearing the kind of fruit I'm hoping for--am I adding on to Bible reading/study that they already do? Do they recognize the value of consistently being in God's Word and in spiritual disciplines, or is it just busy work to their thinking?

One thing I can say, in preparing the weekly meditations and digests I've had to complete them myself, which has been good for me. In order to gather comments I've been using the Ancient Christian Commentary on Scripture and the Reformation Commentary on Scripture, which has been really enlightening, both in terms of illuminating the Scriptures and illuminating the sometimes similar, sometimes different concerns of the Church Fathers and Reformation theologians.

If any of you out there who happen to read this use something similar, or adopt what I've done and have your own reflections to offer, please share them in the comments.

An Example of a Deliberative Exercise

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The Assignment:

It is the Fourth Age of Men and King Eldarion, heir of Aragorn and bearer of Andúril, has been dead for many years, and, having left no heir, his sword was placed in a holy shrine dedicated to Eru Ilúvatar in the citadel of the kings located in the city of Gondor. A sacred law was established saying that none could take and wield the sword until he showed great valor in saving the city. During the Great Battle of the 4^th age, orcs of Mardurgil attacked Gondor, breeching its walls and raiding its citadel. As the raid was taking place, Barahir, the grandson of Faramir, sought to defend the citadel. During his defense his sword was broken and he fled into the shrine where Andúril was kept. He took the sword and rallied the men, slaying Mardurgil and pushing the orcs out of the city. Once peace was secured the elders called Barahir before the council to decide whether he should keep the sword because he used it to save the city, or whether he is unworthy to keep the sword because he took it before achieving any great valor.

Instructions: Write an essay in favor of or against the claim of Barahir to the sword Andúril using the six-part essay format (introduction, statement of facts, division, confirmation, refutation, conclusion) and any available strategies from Hermogenes. Your statement of facts should arrange the details of the event so as to highlight your definition (Barahir’s actions meet the standard of “great valor”) or counter-definition (Barahir’s actions do not meet the standard of “great valor”). Feel free to ask questions.

The Example:

You wisest men of Gondor, best fathers of us all, I bid you welcome to this assembly. Before you stands Barahir, our timely hero, whose deeds of late are well known to you. I need not remind you how he singlehandedly delivered our city from destruction. You, yourselves know of his desperate charge from the citadel, with Andúril, Flame of the West held aloft in his bloody hand, calling down the fiery dawn’s first rays upon the foul orc horde. You have heard sung the testimony of his beloved soldiers, how he reigned down Eru Illuvatar’s sacred fire upon Mardurgil’s helm, cleaving it asunder as he cut a path down through the city to her gates, rallying our men and casting out every last remnant of defiling orc scum. I would that such words today commemorated the high honors already bestowed upon Barahir by this great council. Instead, I am compelled to defend his honor, besmirched by jealous accusers. Men who, instead of showering just honors upon Barahir, have called him sacrilegious blasphemer, warmonger, and vainglorious usurper. I come to answer these charges on behalf of Barahir and to prove not only that he is no usurper, no warmonger, no blasphemer; but also to show why he is worthy to possess Andúril and lead our city into its former glory as in the days of Aragorn himself.

You have heard the words of his accusers, to which I will turn to in a moment. But before I address their blasphemies, I wish to remind you of Barahir’s valorous blood; to bring before your eyes the image of Faramir, his grandfather, in the very man you see before you. I will then recount the deeds of Barahir in the battle for Gondor’s Citadel, resting place of our kings, who from their sepulchers witnessed valor not seen since the siege of Gondor at the end of the Third Age. I must then say a word about the sacred law concerning Andúril, and what its framers meant by enshrining it in sacred holiness. Then, if words remain necessary, I will turn at last to the accusers claims.

Nobility, like the finest vintage, does not emerge from tender shoots of newborn vines, but stretches forth from generations in which deep roots have delved into the earth, both to draw strength from the soil and to hold fast against the fiercest elements. My fathers, Barahir’s valor draws its strength from well-anchored roots as you well know. His blood flows from Boromir son of Denethor, his great uncle, whose valor no man questions. This alone should quell all doubts! Yet it is not Boromir’s blood that runs thickest through Barahir’s veins, but his grandfather Faramir’s! It was not Boromir who resisted the corruption of the Ring of Power, though he paid for his sin with a sacrifice of blood. It was Faramir whose quality shown the brightest when tempted by Sauron’s ring. Moreover, it was Faramir who counted not the scorn of his father so great as to prevent him defending the last stronghold protecting Gondor from Sauron’s army, led by the Witch King of Angmar! Steward of stewards, was this Faramir—greatest servant of Aragorn Elf-Stone—and it is his grandson Barahir who carries his noble blood into our presence today and stewards our people through his shining quality.

Did not Barahir lead our men in sorties against the hordes of Mardurgil when they besieged the city before breeching our walls? Who was it that led the defense of the gates until they broke before the enemy’s iron fist? Barahir bears the scars on his right arm from where the shards of that gate embedded in his flesh as he cast his last spear and swung his blade in mighty arcs when the battering ram shattered our doors to pieces. It was Barahir who rallied the men into ranks, some to defend the women and children and some to retreat with him to the Citadel, where a last defense would be made. No man slew more orcs in that endeavor than Barahir, though his arm gushed out his strength as a river. When his sword shattered from hewing so much orc armor, he found himself at the mouth of the sacred shrine of Eru Ilúvatar. Barahir, who had barely time to take breath under the onslaught, breathed a prayer to Eru as he sped into the shrine for Andúril. With a shout of defiance and hope he sprang from the sacred room with all the might of our fallen kings clenched in his bloody fist, and what a mighty blow did it wield, my fathers! I ask you, would such a sacred sword as Andúril sing so lustily and so clearly for a valorless man? Would not the sword have resisted under an unworthy hand? Could Eru Ilúvatar grant victory—not just victory but victory of such glory and splendor that songs of it will stretch into the Fifth age of men—would Eur give such to one whose valor and nobility was dubious?

Our forefathers who crafted the sacred law could not foresee the day or hour when Andúril would be needed again. Instead they entrusted it to Eru Himself, with the explicit acknowledgment that only the most valorous would be worth of Eru’s blessing to take the sword up for having delivered Gondor from peril. Had they but known that Gondor’s peril would be such as Barahir faced, they would have named him destined heir to Andúril in their law! As it was, by enshrining the sword under the sacred watch of the fallen Kings, before the face of Eru Ilúvatar, no mere man, and certainly no base one, would have been granted the victory that Barahir won by Andúril’s edge and Eru’s might. Did not the sword sense its rightful place in the hand of Barahir? When his bloody fist gripped its hilt, could not the sword feel the spirit of Faramir rushing into it from the pounding of Barahir’s heart, burning with the mighty zeal of that Steward of old?

And yet we hear base men of little worth and excelling ambition hurl slanders at our True and Faithful Steward. They say Barahir committed sacrilege and blasphemy by taking the sword from its shrine without the blessing of this council. I ask you now, my wise fathers, which of you, if you were standing with Barahir at the mouth of the shrine would not have bid him take up the sword? Which of you, having witnessed with your own eyes all that I have recounted, would not have thrown yourselves upon Barahir’s knees and begged him to take up the mantle of the Steward, fix Andúril in his fist, and mow down the enemies of Gondor like so much dry stubble? Do you deem him unworthy of the sword as he stands before you now, savior of the city? Then how could his acts of valor with Andúril disqualify him from possessing the instrument of our salvation?

These treacherous men say that Barahir is a warmonger and usurper of Gondor’s throne. They accuse him of inciting Mardurgil’s wrath so that he could steal Andúril and take the throne. What madness! No man, no council of men, could orchestrate so elaborate and spectacular a ruse. Barahir did not send the men of Gondor to the East to scout the whereabouts of Mardurgil’s horde. Barahir did not put into that black orc heart the lust for all mankind’s destruction. What fool could believe that a man so given over to selfish lust would abandon his body to the perils at the gate, as Barahir did? Who, but a self-righteous and envious dog could believe that any man would carve up his body on the blades of his enemies, break his own sword, and save but a remnant band of weary men to make a last charge against the wrath of evil orcs—even with such a blade as Andúril—by design to usurp the throne of a city already in flames?!

I will waste no more words; indeed one word at all is a waste for such slanders, yet in such dark times as these even basest slanders gain a hearing, seeing that our eyes lack the light of former glory. And yet, and yet, O my fathers, here before you stands a ray of that light from our glorious past shining anew! See him stand meek and strong to receive your judgment! He does not plead, or beg—his face is all of peace. For he knows that his cause is just, and that no city is worth his honor if it condemn the valor it has witnessed in him. Will you not honor him? Will you go against the will of Eru Ilúvatar Himself, who gave Barahir the victory and delivered Gondor from destruction? If you refuse him Andúril, you cannot rob him of the valor he has already achieved, but you can rob yourselves of the honor of your office. Add your voice to what the silent cries of our fallen kings shout from the Citadel—the Citadel that still stands because of Barahir—Andúril is yours, True Steward of Gondor! Andúril is yours, True Steward of Gondor! Andúril is yours, True Steward of Gondor!

A Superficial Poem

Shall I dwell upon the surface, or
Dive into the depths? Doesn't it depend
Upon the end, the object, the bend of will?
I'm sitting on a surface, my feet upon a surface,
My skin enfolded by surfaces. Each keeps
Its own texture, density, mass, extension, tension,
Opacity, load-bearing capacity, elasticity,
Light sensitivity, composition, and dexterity.
If I could align my eye parallel to these
Planes, would their silent undulations not
Reveal depths? Rolling folds, fissures,
Depressions from long-standing pressures,
Pressed upon their. . .surfaces? My own
Surface cracks at the sinister-side of its cavern,
Curling up cheek folds, closing up a window, to
Keep out--ALL-TOO-SERIOUS--depths; dark,
Shadowy burglars what steal away the best
Superficialities.

On Plato's Seventh Epistle

Occasionally I read something that returns my mind to former days of study, when leisure came at a lower cost and the energy behind youthful visions of grandeur still spurred me on to (vain?) inquiries. Today I read an article by Peter Leithart that summarized some general observations of David Bentley Hart about the sacrificial aspects of ancient metaphysics. The following quotation prompted a memory of Plato's Seventh Epistle:

Philosopher may have pretended to put all that behind them, but Hart doesn’t think so: “from the time of the pre-Socratics, all the great speculative and moral systems of the pagan world were in varying degrees confined to this totality, to either its innermost mechanisms or outermost boundaries. . . . none could conceive of reality except as a kind of strife between order and disorder, within which a sacrificial economy held all the forces in tension” (63).

Platonism’s “inexterable dualism” of change and stasis, its “equation of truth with eidetic abstraction” treated the world as “the realm of fallen vision, separated by a great chorismos from the realm immutable reality” (63). Aristotle’s “dialectic of act and potency [is] . . . inseparatble from decay and death” and his “scale of essences” reflected the cosmic determinism of the myths, in which “all things – especially various lcasses of persons – are assigned their places in the natural and social order” (63).

In Neoplatonism, the task of philosophy is “escape” from everything that is not the One – “all multiplicity, change, particularity, every feature of the living world.” Truth “is oblivion of the flesh, a pure nothingness, to attain which one must sacrifice the world” (64).

 The bolded remark prompted my memory, for in Plato's Seventh Epistle he exposits, in brief, what is required of those who would be philosophers over and against those who only pretend. His description reveals some kinship with Hart's observation:

For everything that exists there are three instruments by which the knowledge of it is necessarily imparted; fourth, there is the knowledge itself, and, as fifth, we must count the thing itself which is known and truly exists. The first is the name, the, second the definition, the third. the image, and the fourth the knowledge. If you wish to learn what I mean, take these in the case of one instance, and so understand them in the case of all. A circle is a thing spoken of, and its name is that very word which we have just uttered. The second thing belonging to it is its definition, made up names and verbal forms. For that which has the name "round," "annular," or, "circle," might be defined as that which has the distance from its circumference to its centre everywhere equal. Third, comes that which is drawn and rubbed out again, or turned on a lathe and broken up-none of which things can happen to the circle itself-to which the other things, mentioned have reference; for it is something of a different order from them. Fourth, comes knowledge, intelligence and right opinion about these things. Under this one head we must group everything which has its existence, not in words nor in bodily shapes, but in souls-from which it is dear that it is something different from the nature of the circle itself and from the three things mentioned before. Of these things intelligence comes closest in kinship and likeness to the fifth, and the others are farther distant.

The same applies to straight as well as to circular form, to colours, to the good, the, beautiful, the just, to all bodies whether manufactured or coming into being in the course of nature, to fire, water, and all such things, to every living being, to character in souls, and to all things done and suffered. For in the case of all these, no one, if he has not some how or other got hold of the four things first mentioned, can ever be completely a partaker of knowledge of the fifth. Further, on account of the weakness of language, these (i.e., the four) attempt to show what each thing is like, not less than what each thing is. For this reason no man of intelligence will venture to express his philosophical views in language, especially not in language that is unchangeable, which is true of that which is set down in written characters.

Again you must learn the point which comes next. Every circle, of those which are by the act of man drawn or even turned on a lathe, is full of that which is opposite to the fifth thing. For everywhere it has contact with the straight. But the circle itself, we say, has nothing in either smaller or greater, of that which is its opposite. We say also that the name is not a thing of permanence for any of them, and that nothing prevents the things now called round from being called straight, and the straight things round; for those who make changes and call things by opposite names, nothing will be less permanent (than a name). Again with regard to the definition, if it is made up of names and verbal forms, the same remark holds that there is no sufficiently durable permanence in it. And there is no end to the instances of the ambiguity from which each of the four suffers; but the greatest of them is that which we mentioned a little earlier, that, whereas there are two things, that which has real being, and that which is only a quality, when the soul is seeking to know, not the quality, but the essence, each of the four, presenting to the soul by word and in act that which it is not seeking (i.e., the quality), a thing open to refutation by the senses, being merely the thing presented to the soul in each particular case whether by statement or the act of showing, fills, one may say, every man with puzzlement and perplexity.

Now in subjects in which, by reason of our defective education, we have not been accustomed even to search for the truth, but are satisfied with whatever images are presented to us, we are not held up to ridicule by one another, the questioned by questioners, who can pull to pieces and criticise the four things. But in subjects where we try to compel a man to give a clear answer about the fifth, any one of those who are capable of overthrowing an antagonist gets the better of us, and makes the man, who gives an exposition in speech or writing or in replies to questions, appear to most of his hearers to know nothing of the things on which he is attempting to write or speak; for they are sometimes not aware that it is not the mind of the writer or speaker which is proved to be at fault, but the defective nature of each of the four instruments. The process however of dealing with all of these, as the mind moves up and down to each in turn, does after much effort give birth in a well-constituted mind to knowledge of that which is well constituted. But if a man is ill-constituted by nature (as the state of the soul is naturally in the majority both in its capacity for learning and in what is called moral character)-or it may have become so by deterioration-not even Lynceus could endow such men with the power of sight.

In one word, the man who has no natural kinship with this matter cannot be made akin to it by quickness of learning or memory; for it cannot be engendered at all in natures which are foreign to it. Therefore, if men are not by nature kinship allied to justice and all other things that are honourable, though they may be good at learning and remembering other knowledge of various kinds-or if they have the kinship but are slow learners and have no memory-none of all these will ever learn to the full the truth about virtue and vice. For both must be learnt together; and together also must be learnt, by complete and long continued study, as I said at the beginning, the true and the false about all that has real being. After much effort, as names, definitions, sights, and other data of sense, are brought into contact and friction one with another, in the course of scrutiny and kindly testing by men who proceed by question and answer without ill will, with a sudden flash there shines forth understanding about every problem, and an intelligence whose efforts reach the furthest limits of human powers. Therefore every man of worth, when dealing with matters of worth, will be far from exposing them to ill feeling and misunderstanding among men by committing them to writing. In one word, then, it may be known from this that, if one sees written treatises composed by anyone, either the laws of a lawgiver, or in any other form whatever, these are not for that man the things of most worth, if he is a man of worth, but that his treasures are laid up in the fairest spot that he possesses. But if these things were worked at by him as things of real worth, and committed to writing, then surely, not gods, but men "have themselves bereft him of his wits."

Anyone who has followed this discourse and digression will know well that, if Dionysios or anyone else, great or small, has written a treatise on the highest matters and the first principles of things, he has, so I say, neither heard nor learnt any sound teaching about the subject of his treatise; otherwise, he would have had the same reverence for it, which I have, and would have shrunk from putting it forth into a world of discord and uncomeliness. For he wrote it, not as an aid to memory-since there is no risk of forgetting it, if a man's soul has once laid hold of it; for it is expressed in the shortest of statements-but if he wrote it at all, it was from a mean craving for honour, either putting it forth as his own invention, or to figure as a man possessed of culture, of which he was not worthy, if his heart was set on the credit of possessing it.

 The whole section provides the context for the bolded portions, which show Plato's struggle to reach permanence (knowledge) whilst using the tools of change (names, verbal definitions, images). What must be sacrificed is also telling, and the passage immediately prior to his exposition of the method makes it clear (though the end of the passage above also indicates the sacrifice):

On my arrival, I thought that first I must put to the test the question whether Dionysios had really been kindled with the fire of philosophy, or whether all the reports which had come to Athens were empty rumours. Now there is a way of putting such things to the test which is not to be despised and is well suited to monarchs, especially to those who have got their heads full of erroneous teaching, which immediately my arrival I found to be very much the case with Dionysios. One should show such men what philosophy is in all its extent; what their range of studies is by which it is approached, and how much labour it involves. For the man who has heard this, if he has the true philosophic spirit and that godlike temperament which makes him a kin to philosophy and worthy of it, thinks that he has been told of a marvellous road lying before him, that he must forthwith press on with all his strength, and that life is not worth living if he does anything else. After this he uses to the full his own powers and those of his guide in the path, and relaxes not his efforts, till he has either reached the end of the whole course of study or gained such power that he is not incapable of directing his steps without the aid of a guide. This is the spirit and these are the thoughts by which such a man guides his life, carrying out his work, whatever his occupation may be, but throughout it all ever cleaving to philosophy and to such rules of diet in his daily life as will give him inward sobriety and therewith quickness in learning, a good memory, and reasoning power; the kind of life which is opposed to this he consistently hates. Those who have not the true philosophic temper, but a mere surface colouring of opinions penetrating, like sunburn, only skin deep, when they see how great the range of studies is, how much labour is involved in it, and how necessary to the pursuit it is to have an orderly regulation of the daily life, come to the conclusion that the thing is difficult and impossible for them, and are actually incapable of carrying out the course of study; while some of them persuade themselves that they have sufficiently studied the whole matter and have no need of any further effort. This is the sure test and is the safest one to apply to those who live in luxury and are incapable of continuous effort; it ensures that such a man shall not throw the blame upon his teacher but on himself, because he cannot bring to the pursuit all the qualities necessary to it. Thus it came about that I said to Dionysios what I did say on that occasion.

I did not, however, give a complete exposition, nor did Dionysios ask for one. For he professed to know many, and those the most important, points, and to have a sufficient hold of them through instruction given by others. I hear also that he has since written about what he heard from me, composing what professes to be his own handbook, very different, so he says, from the doctrines which he heard from me; but of its contents I know nothing; I know indeed that others have written on the same subjects; but who they are, is more than they know themselves. Thus much at least, I can say about all writers, past or future, who say they know the things to which I devote myself, whether by hearing the teaching of me or of others, or by their own discoveries-that according to my view it is not possible for them to have any real skill in the matter. There neither is nor ever will be a treatise of mine on the subject. For it does not admit of exposition like other branches of knowledge; but after much converse about the matter itself and a life lived together, suddenly a light, as it were, is kindled in one soul by a flame that leaps to it from another, and thereafter sustains itself. Yet this much I know-that if the things were written or put into words, it would be done best by me, and that, if they were written badly, I should be the person most pained. Again, if they had appeared to me to admit adequately of writing and exposition, what task in life could I have performed nobler than this, to write what is of great service to mankind and to bring the nature of things into the light for all to see? But I do not think it a good thing for men that there should be a disquisition, as it is called, on this topic-except for some few, who are able with a little teaching to find it out for themselves. As for the rest, it would fill some of them quite illogically with a mistaken feeling of contempt, and others with lofty and vain-glorious expectations, as though they had learnt something high and mighty.

The philosopher must sacrifice the body, the pleasures of common life, and the acceptance of and converse with larger society (though he main gain society amongst his fellow philosophers). One might even say, to the extent that Plato's Republic represents anything close to an ideal, that the philosopher must sacrifice the freedom of individual wills to the pursuit of permanence and of ordering the soul in accordance with its dictates.