History and Community Engagement

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At SSU, we are in the process of identifying what community engagement means for us. We are a university committed to justice, beauty and compassion; how does that aspirational identity interact with the knowledge, gifts and needs of the local communities outside of our walls? What practical partnerships can we foster, on the one hand, to be good neighbours locally, and on the other, to equip our students with the skills and wisdom that will benefit them in their future communities (professionally and otherwise)?

Narrowing the issue down to my discipline – history – one starting point is to identify what knowledge and skills historians have to offer that can benefit a wider, non-academic community. Do historians make good neighbours? A second point to consider is how the work done by historians interacts with the knowledge, gifts and needs of the wider public.

To start with the second point, it is helpful to note that wider society has an evident hunger to engage with the past. That hunger has long manifested itself in popular culture; it is now also evident from the popularity of online DNA tests that promise to help consumers to discover the story of their ancestry.  I think a considerable part of this hunger for history is driven by what appears to be a universally human wish to belong, to feel connected to one’s roots. The hunger for history is locally present too; think of the efforts to preserve the historic town hall on Milltown boulevard, the interest in the old Ganong’s factory, or the interest in Open Doors St Stephen, in which SSU participates.

An engagement with history is also often driven by a thirst for justice and recognition. Locally speaking, how this thirst can be a powerful motivating power for grappling with history can be seen from the work of the Peskotomuhkati Recognition Group, that SSU continues to engage with. On a national scale, an example of how a confrontation with the past is necessitated by the thirst for justice and recognition is illustrated by the work of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission that has sought to guide Canada as it works through the fallout of the Indian Residential School system.

Incidentally, one of the TRC commissioners, Justice (now Senator) Murray Sinclair, studied not only law but also history at the University of Manitoba – and one strong historical imperative that emerges from much of his writing is the importance of preserving the testimony of those whose voices the powers that be have sought to silence; to make sure, in short, that people are not lost to memory.

As I write these lines, it is 75 years to the day that Soviet soldiers liberated the prisoners of the Auschwitz concentration camp, where over the course of the previous five years, between 1.1 and 1.5 million people had been killed. In the days leading up to the liberation, in a frantic effort to hide what had been going on, German camp guards destroyed incriminating evidence, and sent all prisoners who were still able to walk on a ‘death march’ to the West. Despite their efforts, the horrors of Auschwitz were not lost to history, and the desire to not see these events forgotten is still widely felt, especially in Europe.

History is the study of the power of stories, and the art of wielding those stories wisely. My ideal of a historian is someone who seeks to critically but compassionately preserve the memory of the past, who tries to learn of people’s experiences as directly as possible, and who takes these experiences seriously; historians know to critically engage with past and contemporary structures of power, while compassionately engaging those who are affected by them. I believe that students who develop those skills will find ample opportunity to employ them in their practical post-university life.

Laurens van Esch

Community Engagement: Enabling Transformation

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Over the last 6 years I’ve spent much of my time considering SSU’s proposition to potential students: My main goal was to find the intersection of two things: Firstly, what are we good at? What do we love to do? What do we do that nobody else can do? Secondly, what do high school kids want? In particular, what do they want from post secondary education? Where these two things meet indicates what we can offer them.

One thing we all agreed that we’ve been good at is transformation. Taking young people who’ve just left home and helping them see the world and face its issues and think about their place in it. When we rethought our mission statement a few years ago, we ended up with humble, creative engagement with our world being at the core of it.

All of our grads end up in a community of one sort or another, and our dream is that they engage with those communities with humility, compassion and initiative. We hope that they do that, but this time last year as we considered this next chapter in SSU’s we wondered if there was room for improvement in how well we prepare our students for this kind of engagement. Instead of just hoping that they engage once they’ve left, could we introduce them to engagement while they’re here?

This is an interesting question for me personally, because I have had to rethink engagement myself over the years, and then work hard at it. I grew up with community engagement simply meaning evangelism. Engagement with the world happened as a means to an end, which was the saving of souls. The only engagement I ever really did, had an agenda – I was always trying to get to the conversation about my faith. My mission was to engage my community with one sole purpose – conversion.

There was every now and then a service element to it; my church community would occasionally serve the poor or the homeless, but even that was tainted with this well-meaning ulterior motive: if we show them God’s love in a practical way, maybe they’ll come to church. I remember being a teenager and thinking, “Why would I ever want any of my school friends to come to church?” but that wasn’t the point. Church services were the point of entry into God’s Kingdom – if we could just get them to come to a church service and sing our songs and hear our sermons, surely they would join us.

I don’t think like that anymore ?. I recall the immense and life-changing relief of finally feeling free from this obligation to save my neighbor. Out of the blue I accidentally had a conversation with a fisherman that lived across from my house, and ended up helping him fix his Land Rover. I had no thought of trying to introduce him to church or Jesus. The only good news I shared with him was that I knew how to fix his truck. For the first time in my life I had genuinely, and helpfully, engaged with my community. Engaging was something I’d always dreaded, because of the intense obligation I was burdened with, but talking to this guy and working on his car was easy. I was just being nice. I was just being me.

I guess some people do this kind of engagement naturally. For me it took practice, and still does. It’s gotten easier as I’ve gotten older and less insecure. But I’m still pretty selfish and a lot of the time I can’t be bothered. But what I know now is that caring about the people in our communities is about the highest calling I can think of. I’d argue that if we genuinely offered ourselves to our communities as active participants, adding our gifts and skills and experience to the local mix, we’d be fulfilling our main purpose as human beings.

So as well as being something that I think SSU could do well, I believe community engagement has a strong moral imperative to it as well. It’s just the right thing to do! But it’s hard. Every one of us grew up in some kind of bubble. To me, our community engagement program should be a bubble burster – it should break people out of their tiny world bubble and dump them in a wider world, just like our travel program does. You can’t do that in a classroom alone. Most of our middle class students have only been around their parents and their peers at high school, and have never met real poor people. How many of our grads might be better at engaging with real people in their communities if we break the ice early in their development as independent adults?

SSU has always had a missional outlook, preparing people to be useful adults with purpose, but we need to be constantly thinking about how to better inspire our students to serve their communities when they leave. With this latest generation, I think it is essential that we figure out how to help get our students out of their privileged heads and self-centred anxieties, and into a worldview of gratitude and compassion. One could do an inspiring fireside chat about it, or a class, but nothing beats diving right in and doing something practical. There’s nothing quite like being faced with the stark reality of how other people live. It shakes us up. It makes us think about ourselves and our privilege, our bubbles. And just maybe it inspires us to make change, to serve, to engage with compassion.

That’s my dream for this program. I love that our students will also get real work experience, and I love that they’ll reduce their debts by getting paid to work, but for me the deepest value lies in exposing them to real community needs, to life without all its fullness, and empowering them to feel like they can do something about it.

Jeremy Barham – Interim President

New Asia Program Leader!

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Nadya in the library

We’re excited to announce that Dr. Nadya Pohran will be joining us at the end of the coming summer, preparing to lead our next Asia study abroad trip that fall.

Nadya Pohran is a cultural anthropologist who focuses on understanding the ways that religious and spiritual beliefs are lived out and practiced in individuals’ daily lives. After two years at St. Stephen’s University, she went on to receive a B.A. in English Literature from the University of Ottawa, an M.A. in Religious Studies from the University of Ottawa, and a PhD in Divinity from the University of Cambridge.

In a broad sense, she is interested in drawing upon people’s lived experiences in order to tease apart some of the binaries that are often assumed in much of current religious studies scholarship: she works to show how seemingly-opposite concepts—“belief and doubt”, “inviting and rejecting”, “captivity and freedom”, “strange and familiar”, “student and teacher”, etc.—can sometimes be better understood as oscillating expressions of the same concept.

She works interdisciplinarily, drawing upon fields of scholarship including: Anthropology of Christianity, Theology [Without Walls], Comparative Philosophy, Hindu-Christian Studies, and Indian Religions. Her PhD research focused on a Christian ashram in the North of India, where she conducted ethnographic fieldwork for approximately one year. In her thesis, she explored themes related to religious syncretism, inculturation, multiple religious orientation, interreligious relations, and existential belonging.

When not in the fieldsite or library, Nadya can be found playing basketball, puttering in her garden, or painting while sipping red wine. She looks forward to returning to SSU and having the opportunity to teach and learn alongside undergraduate students as they enter into cross-cultural experiences.

Community Engagement: Going Barefoot with Illich, Berry & Co.

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As soon as our (SSU’s) new focus on community engagement and innovation started to take hold, what excited me was the sense that we had found the missing piece. Here was the intentionality that would help us address “justice, beauty and compassion and a humble engagement with our world” (from our mission statement) in ways we had not yet found.

Over the years, I had listened to voices that critiqued the role of education and the university in contemporary society. Ivan Illich, Wendell Berry and the Barefoot College, founded in India by Bunker Roy, are among these idealist voices that have much to say. A deepening of community engagement is what these voices are calling for.

Ivan Illich was a renegade priest and iconoclastic voice active in the field of development and education in the seventies with a series of creative, polemical booklets on how the Church, western development and education were failing the people they were meant to serve. In works like Deschooling Society and Tools for Conviviality, he critiqued what was failing and shared an alternate vision. He believed that educational institutions commodified education with the typical market outcome of making their product scarcer to drive up its perceived value. They stratified societies more often than they helped communities find solidarity and equality.

Instead he imagined more “convivial” webs of learning – educational practices on a more human scale that placed responsible limits on their claims, acknowledging the learning already taking place naturally in villages and non-Western countries. He felt the value of a good lecture was not primarily in its substance but in the opportunity it created for a hospitable gathering of friends to keep talking afterwards.

Wendell Berry also stresses limits and a more human education. It makes no sense to Berry that a university would take people out of their communities and train them to be useless to the places they came from. A good university must serve a real place and understand deeply its effect on human and natural communities.

A final, similar, voice is that of Barefoot College in Tilonia, India. Based deeply on village life and the values and lifestyle modeled by Mahatma Gandhi, Barefoot College was created by Bunker Roy in order to facilitate and enable the best education that was natural and innate in the villages of the poor. There, particularly among women (and even more particularly among grandmothers), he found the expertise and the approach that was needed to allow education and appropriate technology to flourish. They built their own solar-powered campus, barred anyone with a graduate degree from teaching, and spread throughout the world with their approach. The only “certificate” they are interested in is the acceptance of the community in which their people serve.

These are all radicals and idealists. I don’t want to be barred from teaching because I have degrees. But I do want to be inspired by all of them to be creative about serving our communities and our students with more justice, beauty and compassion.

As we develop our new emphasis on community engagement, here are three questions that I have for us at SSU that are inspired by voices like theirs:

  • Can we find the perfect fraction of SSU education to take place outside of our walls?
  • Can we develop the gift of searching for, identifying, participating in and offering academic credibility for genuine learning (related to university education) that takes place outside of traditionally accredited experiences?
  • Can we make SSU’s educational experiences and resources as available as possible to the communities around us?


Religious Studies and Community Engagement

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As the 21st century proceeds, there is a longing in academia to make bridges to a “real” world, to connect abstract ideas to the places where people actually live. At St. Stephen’s University we feel this, too, and it has led us to a determination to develop a major focus on community engagement. Each department, each discipline, is turning its attention to this task. What will a more practical application look like as it emerges from the world of ideas that is specific to each particular course of study?

My field is Religious Studies. As I thought about this challenge for my own work, I had a hard time imagining possible scenarios. In the past we have sent students to various faith communities to sing or to teach something, but that seemed a bit beside the point. How could a serious academic focus on Religious Studies contribute to deeper levels of involvement in the larger context in which we live?

Gradually, I’ve come to the conclusion that there is a way. I think that the particular gift of Religious Studies is to help students attain a posture that will be most helpful for community engagement. In other words, the main role of this discipline may be preparation. Students that are drawn to religious studies, as well as the institutions that they inhabit, may be filled with ideas that make it hard to work in a synergistic way with others. Religious exclusivism can be very real. People with good intentions may find it hard to learn from peers that hold different worldviews. Such people may present a kind exterior but quietly reserve the right to filter out the contributions of others. I think that I have seen this time after time. What might help?

First, Religious Studies can help people learn to dialogue and to value a “spirituality enriched by difference.” After all, in many traditions, Christianity included, there is a high value on treating others as you would like to be treated yourself. This includes giving fair hearing to others and learning from them wherever possible. We would all like to be treated like that.

Secondly, Religious Studies can help people learn to appreciate sacred texts without being forever imprisoned to ancient decrees. Our discipline can help people see that many mistakes have been made through the ages by authoritarian interpretations and it can help people learn to be comfortable with humbler, and probably wiser, approaches.

Third, Religious Studies can help people see the need to learn from the real-life difficulties of individuals and groups. It can help students step away from idealism and appreciate the complexity of some of the dilemmas that other people, including minorities in various societies, actually face.

Fourth, Religious Studies can help to re-focus the passions so that people are ready to lend their hand to efforts to make the world more just, more compassionate, and more beautiful. There is a great temptation, for those who are drawn to religious studies, to use their energy in pursuit of the priorities of their own communities. At best, this can be an important stage in personal development and maturity. At worst, it can be a distraction from making a difference in a real world. It’s like flowers or vegetables that are started in a hothouse but never replanted in a larger garden. The shelter is appreciated but the benefit to the larger community is lost.

I can think of some other ways as well, but this may suffice as an indication of the kind of the value that Religious Studies may bring to the table as universities seek to find deeper and better ways to engage the world that surrounds them.

Peter Fitch, D. Min.

Professor of Religious Studies

November 2019



International Studies & Community Engagement

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I was at a conference recently and one of the participants made a comment that really resonates with me. He said, “it works well in practice, but does it work in theory?” We are more accustomed to the question, “does it work in practice?” I once heard Stephen Lewis quip that he’s a Socialist so he knows all about great ideas that don’t work in practice. This all reminds me of the wonderful, perplexing, sometimes frustrating, ongoing tension in academic work – and life in general – between theory and practice.

In the “ivory tower”, we have often been accused of – and enjoyed – living a little above the fray of everyday life; of delighting in the ideological and philosophical atmosphere where practicalities are not our principle focus. In the social sciences we can wrestle with and develop ideas and theories and leave it to the practitioners to figure out whether or not our theories add any sense of meaning or coherence to the “real world” with its promises and problems. In the humanities, we can gain understanding and give expression to the agony and ecstasy of human experience throughout the ages.

I confess that I’ve always felt a bit like an imposter in academic circles, partly because I have an ongoing fascination with the interplay between theory and practice. I come by this fascination honestly enough – my dad was a biomedical engineer who specialized in developing the myoelectric technology which allows people with prosthetic hands to control the finer and more complex movements of their hands. Hooks can grasp objects but do not even attempt to mimic the more complex and nuanced tasks that I can take for granted – picking up delicate or fine objects, for example. The prosthetic hands that my dad helped develop are a wonderful example of theory that is applied and refined for utilitarian purposes.

And, having married a commercial fisherman over three decades ago, I participate daily in discussions of practical significance. Questions about environmental stewardship or policies around resource management have consequences now and into the future and are always based on one theoretical and political vision or another. A frequent lament amongst fishers and farmers is that decisions affecting their lives and livelihoods are too often made in offices in Ottawa or Halifax or Edmonton, far removed from the bays and fields of real life. And bad policies can be as much about a failure to consider culture and the influence of generational wisdom, knowledge and resilience as they are about misguided or incomplete science.

At SSU as we consider how to move forward with our vision of community engagement, I am very excited for how this will strengthen the International Studies (IS) program. Students often come to SSU and more specifically, into International Studies, because they want to “make a difference” in the world. They recognize some of the challenges humanity is facing and feel compelled to be engaged. But, truth be told, they don’t actually know much about how the world works – the international or national organizations and structures and ideologies that underpin the “way things are” or the historical moments upon which the arc we’re now on is rooted.  My hope has always been that their time at SSU will help them to identify the things that they think need changing and some of the principles and practices needed to move in those directions.

I have also consistently said that wanting to make a difference is a great place to start, but that if we can’t make a difference WHERE we are, there’s no point in aspiring to make a difference somewhere else. At present, the Field Experience requirement (a 3 credit hour course, usually done in the third or fourth year of the IS program) is the one intentional opportunity for students to choose, or design, a hands-on community engagement project, locally or further afield. It CAN be a transformative experience.

My hope is that the community engagement focus will amplify this aspect of the SSU experience for all students, thus better equipping them for whatever path they choose after they graduate, be it further study, work in their chosen field, and/or intentional engagement in community and/or family life.

Community engagement makes sense in theory, but even more importantly, I believe that it will work in practice to prepare our graduates through academic and personal development, for a life of justice, beauty, and compassion, enabling a humble, creative engagement with their world.

Discussion and Investigations: ‘Community Engagement’

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The Mission of SSU is “to prepare people, through academic, personal, and spiritual development, for a life of justice, beauty, and compassion, enabling a humble, creative engagement with their world.” This is a lofty and admirable mission and it requires us to actively review and rethink how we do things. Over the 44 year history of the university we have developed many different academic programs and right now we are exploring something called ‘community engagement.’ Why are we focusing on this now? Our preliminary research suggests that ‘community engagement’ is something that is related to many things we have done previously, but could also extend our academic program further in useful and desirable ways. How will ‘community engagement’ aid us in our mission? This is one of the big questions we are just starting to unpack.

Of course, this question of how community engagement aids us in our mission leads to many other questions. What do we mean by “community engagement?” What do others (people and institutions) mean by this term? Do we not already engage with our community? Which community are we talking about anyways?

It is often helpful to begin a journey into unknown territory with questions, and as an academic institution we know that questions are at the heart of our studies across the disciplines we are passionate about. So we ask even more questions, organize them into groups and peck away at answers. Some questions are important to ask because they help us pay attention to who we are, and not just the information we collect in our research. As we look around at various ideas and expressions of community engagement we ask: what are we drawn to? What are our goals? What will we add that is desirable by focusing more ‘community engagement’? What will we add that is undesirable?

Many institutions of higher education, in Canada and abroad, are talking about community engagement. It is a very trendy topic. Investigating what different people are talking about when they talk about community engagement is helping us get a clearer sense of what we would like to do. Some institutions, such as the University of Calgary (U of C), talk about community engagement in the sense of making spaces and activities as connected and accessible to the people who live in the space around the university. The U of C website has a page dedicated to explaining their approach to ‘community engagement’ and it lists almost every part of the institution, from its facilities to ‘Indigenous Reconciliation’, as being a component of ‘community engagement. 

At Simon Fraser University (SFU) in Vancouver, the activities associated with ‘community engagement’ are different. SFU does not list the ways in which its facilities are part of engaging with the community, rather SFU has set an institution wide target to become “Canada’s most community-engaged research community.” It lists on its website the objectives it associates with community engagement as well as its priorities. Objectives include: “increase experiential learning opportunities”, “develop new programs for mature, returning and non-traditional students.” Priorities include: “measure, communicate & celebrate”, “improve community access.”

Finally at Western University in London Ontario we see another approach that seems to be as different from those taken by SFU and U of C as they are from each other. At Western the faculty of Arts & Humanities has a department of “Public Humanities.” The Public Humanities is not a strategic focus for the university but rather conceived of as a discipline of the humanities. As an academic discipline it works on reimagining “the place of public scholarship, experiential learning, and mutually beneficial forms of campus-community collaboration across the Arts and Humanities disciplines.” What does this mean? Well rather than seeing community engagement as something to be bolted onto university programs, or a new program that is added alongside others, the Public Humanities at Western appears to understand ‘community engagement’ as a part of the humanities, or a way of doing humanities itself. It is something that is created through academic ways of asking questions, engaging in dialogue, and producing knowledge.

Many universities beyond these three are actively talking about ‘community engagement.’ How ‘community engagement’ is talked about varies widely. How it is deployed varies widely. At SSU we have long talked about community, engaging with one another, and being changed through that engagement. Now we are looking to go deeper and broader, to again re-examine the mechanisms and purposes of our academic program as we continue to try and provide a place that prepares people for a life of beauty, justice and compassion. Throughout this academic year the research being undertaken by our faculty, and the conversations happening among leadership, will move out in various forms to broader community spaces. Look to this blog and various public events for opportunities to learn with us as we move forward. Also feel free to email me, Dr. Matt Balcarras, Associate Dean of Arts, with any questions you have about community engagement or our process: mbalcarras @ ssu.ca

Ashes, Dust and Water

By | Agnes Kramer-Hamstra, Faculty Blog | No Comments

Ashes, Dust and Water: a meditation grounded in Margaret Avison’s “Rising Dust”

This week  some Christian traditions practice Ash Wednesday.  Participants in an Ash Wednesday service receive on their foreheads a thumbprint of ashes as they hear this reminder:  “Dust you are and to dust you shall return.”

Cheery thought?!  It may be: that we are made of humus, of the stuff of the earth, that we are limited, gifted with a few years, fragile, ornery, dusty. Maybe this season can speak to and be brought into dialogue with the forces that swirl in our current way of being public. “Dust you are and to dust you shall return”: imagine the politically and financially powerful on this good earth framing their rising within this mantra.

The frailty and tentative qualities that Ash Wednesday evokes might offer some relief in the constructed urgencies of a public life that demands a “brand,” in the trigger-happy political atmosphere of tweets and short attention spans.   There is that seemingly paramount pressure in the marketplace, of trying to catch another’s attention, of creating sway in the ebb and flow of manufacturing public opinion.   In this vortex where time is measured less by seasons and more by ticking clocks, where pace is measured less by the sun slowly warming the earth and more by being on some cutting edge, poets and others who go by a slower language may feel speechless or tongue-tied.

Ash Wednesday brings to mind not only another pace, but a way to translate dust and ashes.  Reaching for a remote can subtly take the place of face-to-face conversations . “Remote,” and, “reaching for the remote” – these terms for that way of being is telling.  Ashes could become associated with drones and those who sit in dark rooms with their remotes in their hands, watching the screen that tells them about the movements of the people they are targeting, waiting for the moment when the drone that they are controlling can make its hit.  Who is the audience being remotely targeted?  The “audience” is hidden from the auditor: both are “virtual,” untouchable, ghosty, physically out of touch and time-wise, out of joint, as Jacques Derrida’s sharp commentary of Hamlet suggests. These conditions seem to graphically describe the ashes and the dust, how our little lives can fall apart, how remoteness escalates conflict, how nations fail those many who remain hidden.

Faced with a world I cannot make sense of, where face-to-face encounters break down and dissolve, I need language that has the power to uncover a deeper reality.

Margaret Avison’s “Rising Dust” speaks deliberately: takes the image of humans-as-dust and reframes it. Turns out, we are composed of mostly water.  It is the power of such language that fires me up and that calls me, over and over, into a current that gives life.

The thumbprint of ashes on my forehead, I turn to speech that counters speechlessness, thirsty for words that call the world into being.  Parched for the speech that calls and recalls us, I am grateful for the claim we are “rising dust,” that suggests, in fact, that we are “though leaky firm.”

This language claims we are composed, and assumes the presence of a composer.  This story is about a reality “the learned few / do not explain,” and is there a tone of relief in that, that “that’s life”?  In the world that this poem conjures up, there is the constant movement of water, the image of the “sky and earth [that] invisibly / breathe skyfuls of/ water.”  Beyond the disconnect of the remote, of the illusion of remote control, the very sky and the earth are in fact breathing.

With the daub of ash on my forehead I am reminded that we breathing beings are “kin to waterfalls [and] all that flows and surges….[and]  yet I go steadily.”  I am composed of substance, of some solid goodness.   Moreover and somehow, this includes a “vital bond,”  some energy that “thrums and shudders and twists,” that somehow connects all that lives and moves to the composer / weaver.  This bond is something that somehow “sounds” (“forever”?!) the heart, that is “almost limitless,” and that we dusty ones thirsting for water can never “quite make sense of it.”  But there it is, offering itself this Ash Wednesday.

Rising Dust

The physiologist says I am well over
half water.
I feel, look, solid; am
though leaky firm.
Yet I am composed
largely of water.
How the composer turned us out
this way, even the learned few do not
explain. That’s life….

Click here to read all of Margaret Avison’s poem

In ________ We Trust

By | Peter Fitch | No Comments

There are many possible choices about where truth lies in its purest form. For some people it’s a religious perspective; for others it’s more of a societal or cultural blend. For some it’s built from a confidence in science; for others it’s adherence to a form of political philosophy. Whatever you decide is the best ultimate authority or truth source in your life will have a profound influence on the decisions you make.

At St. Stephen’s University, we acknowledge that there are people in our midst who have made different choices, whether conscious or unconscious, regarding the source of truth. It can be a great challenge for people who are coming from different perspectives to get along! Each new topic in a class or a mealtime conversation or a social media fight will be affected to some degree by the underlying assumptions that people have within their heads.

If people are coming from a religious perspective, they may define truth in line with the teaching of their church or with a sacred text like the Bible. If someone is coming from a less-well-defined religious perspective, or is an agnostic or atheist, it may be difficult to understand the motivations and thoughts of people who are trying to be obedient to something outside of themselves. This difference can be seen in conversation after conversation; it can cause an impasse which makes the breakthrough to community quite difficult.

What can help? First, learning to listen. This sounds simple but is actually one of the greatest of life skills. French genius Simone Weil said, “Attention is the rarest and purest form of generosity.” Learning to hear what others are actually saying, rather than using the moments when they are speaking to create strategies of attack against them, is an essential component of maturity.

Second, it is possible to have a “teleological suspension of disbelief.” This is an offshoot of an idea by Danish philosopher Soren Kierkegaard who spoke of a teleological suspension of the ethical. He suggested that normal ethics might need to be put aside at times for a good reason or purpose (that’s what “teleological” means). A teleological suspension of disbelief is different. It means temporarily taking what you believe about something and pushing that to the “back-burner” of your mind, so that your concentration can truly be on the perspective of the other. This is about laying down your defenses and your sense of right and wrong, not forever, but for as long as you are listening to a person who has a different belief. In this way, it is possible to get a better glimpse of what the person is saying. An attempt can be made to imagine the world as the other person is seeing it. There can be benefits to this. Perhaps there are ideas that will improve your own way of thinking when you return to them to sort it all out. Perhaps there are not. Even so, you will have conferred a sense of dignity to the person you were speaking with as you listened as though they had something important and true to say.

Third, it is very helpful to remember that all perspectives are incomplete. Even if you are very confident in the truth source you have chosen, there will be acknowledgements from those who represent it most deeply (priests, scholars, scientists, politicians, philosophers, parents, movie stars, etc.) that there is a level of mystery in life. Our perspectives are finite. So is our knowledge. So, probably are some of our cherished beliefs. Different groups may have different opinions about how much mystery is involved but remembering that mystery exists allows us to have something we might call an “epistemology of humility.” This is an open-handed approach to life, thought, and belief. It means that there is always more to learn. Life is always deeper than we know. The clue that will lead us to the next life-changing thought may very well come from an unlikely source. It’s important, then, to stay open, awake, with a sense that learning is a privilege and a journey. We do not yet know all that we need to know. We keep learning as we go.

Fourth, and finally, it is worth it to place a high value on synergy. It is possible to have the opposite, to be “right” and to be lonely. At times this is admirable. It means that you are holding on to a sense of conviction in the midst of many others who think you are wrong. At times it is less about conviction and more about stubbornness, refusing to listen or to learn from the perspectives of others. A good deal of wisdom is needed in order to know which is which! Am I being a hero or a fool?! Most of us will try both of these on from time to time. However, just as harmony enhances melody, synergy enhances life with others. This is the beauty of community, when we offer our gifts, perspectives, learning, beliefs and concerns in a way that produces a deeper vision for all. Valuing this, knowing that it is possible, allows people of different perspectives to share in life together with the hope that moments of breakthrough can be achieved. Life can be richer than it has been. Perhaps we will never agree on all aspects of thought or belief, but we can learn from each other as we go, and we can make better societies if we learn to care about the perspectives of others.

Normalizing Maturity

By | Faculty Blog, Walter Thiessen | No Comments

The title for this post might seem naively optimistic, but if that’s true, that’s precisely my point. We no longer seem to expect maturity. A whole generation of millennials are frequently (and unfairly) criticized as immature and not necessarily maturing. We don’t seem to expect maturity from politicians or even church leaders anymore.

This led me to wonder whether we’ve been failing to normalize maturity. Consider the big potential advantage of planning for maturity: if we truly expect our young people to mature, perhaps we could choose to introduce them to a worldview that was big enough to mature into?

I think we’ve been doing the opposite. At the risk of some oversimplification, let me sketch what seem to be the two most prominent worldviews in North America lately: a consumeristic and competitive materialism on the one hand, and a narrowly conservative form of watered-down Christianity on the other. Of course, in spite of the paradox, many people manage to hold both of these small worldviews, with worn-out patches of faith slapped onto the emptiness of the rat race or a home full of stuff. But the key is that both worldviews are small. Neither lends itself to a maturity in which we relate to the world in an open, gracious and compassionate way.

I think many teachers in public schools try hard to awaken compassion, but they are stuck in a system that discourages straying outside of materialistic ways of seeing the world. Students are taught the authority of science, but not the open-ended mystery that good science can inspire. Has anyone learned about the mystical thinking of leading physicists and geneticists in high school? Instead, students subtly learn that if you trust science, which you should in the 21st century, there is nothing else.

In churches, and the families that support them, many learn a kind of faith that has been hardened through decades of defensiveness. A huge effort is made at creating a culture bubble in which they feel safe because they are on God’s side. And they don’t seem to notice that these bubbles contain little of the lifestyle challenge and outward compassion of the Jesus to which their gathering is meant to be dedicated.

Of course, thank goodness, there are many, many exceptions in the marketplace and in the churches. But we make it way too easy to stay immature: never to think a complex thought, never to wonder what it takes to risk welcoming a stranger, never to imagine that God is way bigger (and better and more mysterious) than imagined, never to question whether a good many of our present understandings are incorrect or incomplete.

The humanities are one place in which maturity should be expected, but fewer students are spending much time there these days. One way of normalizing maturity would be expecting educated leaders to give some serious attention to the humanities. If we really thought that maturity is where we would end up, we would be inviting people, right from childhood, into a bigger and more nuanced world.