Love and Education

On Father’s Day, I posted a piece on God’s paternal love for us, drawing from both the Hebrew Scriptures (Ex 34:6-8) and the New Testament (Lk 15:11-32). Recently, I read a presentation delivered by Pope Francis, then Cardinal Bergoglio, entitled “The Educational Process” which describes the relationship between teacher and student in similar terms. In this paper, Pope Francis describes the difficulties which teachers, especially college and university professors, can encounter that derive from the contemporary culture which we inhabit. These difficulties include facing special interests within the educational system which “are alien to education itself,” and the ever-increasing phenomenon of the participants in the educational process (i.e., students, teachers, and parents) becoming disengaged with their own formation and the formation of those in their charge. “We have become spectators,” Pope Francis writes, “and ceased to be protagonists of our personal history and our life.”

Supper at EmmausTo bridge these divisions, Pope Francis proposes a pedagogy of “encounter.” By this he means that the educational process ought to be characterized by a type of love. Drawing from the New Testament, and the Greek learning inherited by the early Church, Pope Francis distinguishes between three types of love. Eros is a type of love which seeks its own satisfaction. Naturally, it has come to be associated with romantic love but is certainly not limited to that sphere. Whenever we have a deep desire which seeks consummation – and many of the mystics speak of the transformation and sanctification of this desire for God – it is, so to speak, erotic. Agape, on the other hand, is a type of love which is self-sacrificing. It expects nothing in return, but wills the good of the other. Christ’s self-sacrifice on the cross is the example par excellence of agapic love; so much so that, in the early Church, the commemoration of Christ’s sacrifice in the Eucharist was referred to as the ‘love (agape) feast.’

School of AthensBut education is not built upon either of these senses of love. A third type of love, which is the foundation of a pedagogy of “encounter,” is philia. Derived from the Greek word for ‘friend,’ philia is a love which is neither totally self-seeking nor totally self-sacrificing. Rather, philial love is given with the expectation of reciprocity; thereby forming a communion of persons. “It is a love of relationship,” Pope Francis writes, “participation, communication, and friendship.” Pope Francis is not advocating, however, that professors become “BFF’s” with their students. Philial love in this context is characterized by a concern for the good of the student and a recognition of the good in the teacher. It is much closer to the relationship between a parent and a child than the relationship of peers to each other. It is, one might say, covenantal.

Pope Francis sees this love as the foundation of a pedagogy of “encounter” because it is only within this type of friendship that both teacher and student can “encounter” each other as persons. Within this friendship, the student is not simply ‘student x,’ but Joseph. The teacher is not simply ‘my professor for subject y,’ but Dr. Mary. Again, as Pope Francis writes: “For this educational encounter to happen, we teachers […] need affection. Trust in your affection. Love what you do and love your students.”

Christs Charge to PeterIn closing, the type of love which Pope Francis speaks of as the foundation of education is most uniquely illustrated at the end of St. John’s Gospel (21:15-19). After his glorious resurrection, Jesus asks Peter three times if he loves him. Naturally, and as one reads in every scriptural commentary on this passage, Jesus asks this question of Peter three times as a way of redeeming Peter’s three denials of him on Holy Thursday. But what is lost to the English reader is that Jesus asks Peter if he ‘loves’ (agapas) him twice. The final question to Peter is: “Do you love (phileis) me?” In other words, Jesus twice asks Peter if he would sacrifice himself for him, but on the third occasion he asks Peter: “But are we friends?” It is not enough for Peter to repent of his denials by offering himself for Jesus. No. In order to “tend Jesus’ sheep,” the two must have an active, living relationship: a friendship. In order to form others in Christ, one cannot simply view one’s ministry as a sacrifice. There must be present a friendship with Christ that one wishes to share with others. Similarly, a true education cannot be founded solely upon the idea of serving the other – let alone the simple communication of data – but upon a living and relational encounter: a friendship.

Anthony Coleman teaches theology for Saint Joseph’s College Online.

The Beginning of Knowledge

It’s the end of August, and that means just one thing for a teacher: course prep.

I’m doubly blessed—that’s the word, right?—to be preparing both for homeschooling and for my graduate theology classes. A friend asked me if I was ready for the new homeschool year. No, of course I’m not. But it always starts anyway.

Homeschooling is actually the most fun right now. That’s right, before the year has started. All is promise. All is potential. All is sweetness and light. The curricula I have picked line up in shining rows; the books practically glisten. Visions of docile and happy children working industriously intrude into my mind, despite my intimate knowledge of what it all really looks like. (“Mom, Joseph looked at me funny while I was trying to read!” “Mom, can I just tell you my essay rather than write it out?” “Mom, why do I have to do math? I’ll never use it!” Ignore him, no, and … oh, just do it.)

In fact, I do enjoy homeschooling, or we wouldn’t do it. I love having the kids around and giving them the chance to interact with each other in longer snatches than a few stressful hours before school and before bed. And nothing beats the thrill of seeing a young mind open up with the space and quiet to explore the really exciting things.

But there is no denying that the beginning of the year is always the most exciting. What really stinks is February. By then, the snow seems to be up to the deck railing, the books have grown stale, and I can see all the flaws in the curricula I so lovingly handled six months before. February is a great time for field trips and snow days. (Yeah, I know homeschoolers can’t actually have snow days. We make them up. The homeschool police haven’t arrested us for it yet.) February is not a beginning. February is a stuck-in-the-middle month. It lacks the freshness and potential of a beginning.

Despite all that, however, Proverbs 1:7 tells us, “The fear of the LORD is the beginning of knowledge; fools despise wisdom and instruction.” The wisdom we seek in study always has a beginning, and I don’t mean August. The beginning is the step taken into the depths: “Put out into the deep!” as Pope Saint John Paul II always exhorted us. When we “fear the Lord,” we trust that He is God and we are not. We put out into the depths of His loving wisdom. We trust that He really is running the show. We are, in other words, humble. Only the fool thinks he doesn’t need to be instructed. The wise person knows how little he knows.

The beauty of this is that we can reclaim the freshness of the beginning of knowledge any time. Every day is a new start, pulsing with the potential that is as infinite as the triune God. Every hour can be the beginning of wisdom. We can start again … and again … and again. Even in February.

In any case, this year February will be just fine. You see, there’s this new curriculum we’re going to use…

Angela Franks teaches theology for Saint Joseph’s College Online.