Personhood and Abortion (and Mississippi)

In case you haven't heard, legislators in the great state of Mississippi want to define "personhood" so that abortion is deemed illegal. I'm not particularly interested in discussing abortion - not today at least. What I want to discuss is the merits, or lack thereof, concerning this amendment.

The problem is that the legislators equate "person" and "life" and "human." Philosophically, I do not.

A strong case can be made that human life begins at the time of conception. Indeed, that is one of the strongest arguments made in support of the amendment. But so what? This doesn't mean that a fertilized egg is a person.

At that point, at conception, there is nothing near what we would call a human being. There is life. There is something that will - or at least has the potential to - develop into a human being. But there just is not a person.

To help clarify the issue, I propose that we distinguish between three terms. One, obviously, is "person." The other two are "human being" and "human life."

So, how will this help? Well, for a Mississippi legislature, it probably won't, because they'd have to start over. But for those of us who truly want to define the issue, it really will help.

Okay, so what are we talking about?

Let's start with "human life." As stated above, I actually think these Mississippians have a strong case when they argue that life begins at conception. Thus, I don't have a problem calling an embryo a "human life." But it doesn't make sense to me to call an embryo either a "human being" or a "person."

Next is "human being." The beginning point for this category can lie at several different places; it's a bit subjective, depending on what you consider to be a "human being." At the very latest, it begins with birth. However, I would push strongly for beginning this category no later than that point where a fetus can survive outside the womb - somewhere in the range of weeks 23-28 of pregnancy, toward the end of the 2nd trimester or the beginning of the 3rd trimester. I can accept this as a "human being." Still, though, I can't really call this a "person" yet.

The last category, then, is "person." Where this category starts is not entirely clear either. Some would say that it begins with birth, and I am okay with that. But, really, I would prefer to attach "personhood" to a certain level consciousness. To me, it is our level of consciousness, our level of awareness - this is the human characteristic that sets us apart from other animals.

Clearly, these categories overlap. "Person" is always added to "human being," which is always added to "human life," although the reverse is not true. Thus, all persons are human beings, but not all human beings are persons. And, all human beings are human life, but not all human life is a human being. And, all persons are human life, but not all human life is a person.

Now, "human life" obviously ends with death. Likewise, death is also the end of a "human being." However, while death may be the end of a "person," it is not necessarily so. Since "personhood" is attached to a certain level of consciousness, "personhood" can leave when that level of consciousness leaves, which may actually be before death.

I hope it is clear why we would want to make these distinctions. I think these categories make sense. And there are several ways they can be applied. However, for our current discussion - the Mississippi "Personhood Amendment" - you can see that "personhood" is the wrong category for their purposes. You can't abort a "person," according to these categories.

More Human Than Human

Jesus is, to me, "more human than human," to quote Rob Zombie. Although I'm pretty sure he wasn't talking about Jesus.

Our lesson this morning was on who Jesus is, using Mark 8.27-31 as the text. That's where Jesus asks his disciples who people say that he is - and then turns the question on them. So, today, we discussed who Jesus is to us. I have a fairly unorthodox view of Jesus, so get ready. (I'm warning you ahead of time, so it's not my fault if you get offended.)

I've mentioned before that I don't find a sinless, divine Christ very satisfying. I think Jesus is human, which is to say just like me and you. But it is pretty obvious that, actually, Jesus is not really like us. I think that's why we are so quick to assign divinity to him. Since I don't find that helpful, I have to figure out another way to explain why Jesus is so different from us.

And that's where Rob Zombie comes in. If we are human, Jesus is more human than human. But what I really mean is that Jesus is the most human person who has ever lived, whereas we are actually less than human. Let me state that another way: Jesus seems divine because he is human, which is more than we can say for ourselves.

So, now, let's flesh that out a little. What does it mean for Jesus to be the most human person to ever live? Well, to answer that, we first must address the question of what it means to be human. If you want to get all fancy, we have to do some theological anthropology. And that's where things get interesting to me.

I look to Genesis 1.27 to find out what it means to be human. "God created humankind in God's image," it reads. So, what does it mean to be human? It means to be the image of God. Now, when someone says that my son looks like the spit and image of me, what they mean is that he looks just like me. I think that's what it means to be human - to look just like God, to be so at one with God that God shines through you. That's what I think it means to be human, and that describes Jesus perfectly. And it also explains the tendency to ascribe divinity to Jesus.

But what about us? Aren't we human? Well, let's look back to the definition of human. Are we the image of God? At times, I would argue, yes. On the whole, however, absolutely not. Today, the tenth anniversary of 9/11, is the perfect day to reflect on that. Just look at the violence and death that cause us to remember this day - and look at the violence and death that is still ongoing ten years later in response.

So, are we human? No, we aren't worthy of the name. The image of God does not kill, does not accept such social stratification, does not turn a blind eye to exploitation, does not allow millions of children to die of starvation and curable diseases.

God is Love. And so the image of God must reflect the Love that is God. We don't do that.

And yet that image of God is still within us. You see it in every act of love. You see it in every act of hospitality. You see it when the Other is welcomed, when the stranger is invited in. You see it when forgiveness occurs. You see it when dialogue is chosen over violence, when the other cheek is turned rather than the fist raised. You see it when we raise up our voices instead of lounging around in apathy and complacency. You see it in the streets, when the people rise up in protest and demand to be treated as humans. You can see humanity, probably most of all, in children, which is why Jesus was so eager to welcome them.

Are we human? Yes and no. Already and not yet. Jesus shows us what is possible. In fact, Jesus said that we could not only do what he did, but that we could do even greater things. We should take that as a challenge. That's the way I operate - and that's the way I try to get my students to operate. If someone says that I can't do something, I want to prove them wrong. And if I can't do something right now, I will not rest until I figure out how.

That's is our goal, our purpose, our reason for being - to figure out a way to be human, to be the image of God, to be so transparent that the divine shines right through us.

Dr. King proclaimed, "I've looked over, and I've seen the promised land." Jesus allows us to look over, to see what is possible, to see what is promised

"I may not get there with you," Dr. King continued. And we may not reach the status of human, of image of God, in our lifetime.

"But I want you to know," Dr. King concluded, "that we as a people will get to the promised land." Yes, Lord, we will become human one day. We shall overcome, one day, the inhumanity, the less-than-human in us. We will grow into the humanity that is in us.

And here is where my French buddy, Jacques Derrida, may he rest in peace, starts getting antsy, excited, exclaiming, "Veins, Oui, Oui!"

Amen.

Holy Saturday: Will Death Have the Final Word?

Holy Saturday is the most intriguing day of Holy Week to me.

I love Maundy Thursday and the Eucharist meal, I love Good Friday and the cross, and I love Easter and the celebration.

But Saturday is the day of ambiguity, the day that interprets us as humans. We wake up this morning with the realization that death has won. Hope died on the cross. On Friday, it was just a person, a friend, who was executed. But, on Saturday, we remember the hope that was tied to this person.

And so we mourn, not just for the person who was killed, but also for ourselves, for we are now in despair, without hope.

That is the stark reality that is Holy Saturday.

Let that situation set in for a minute.

Now, let that situation interpret you. Are you one who gives up in the absence of hope? Or are you one who hopes beyond hope, who believes in the impossible, who refuses to accept the status quo no matter what?

It's easy to believe on Easter morning.

The question is, can you believe on Holy Saturday?

God and Natural Disasters

"Why do bad things happen?" asks David Waters, who is doing great things at the new Faith in Memphis website.

Actually, the question is as follows: Natural disasters like the earthquake and tsunami in Japan last week, the Haiti quake, the Indian Ocean tsunami, Hurricane Katrina and so forth raise so many questions for all of us. Where is God? If God is good, and/or if God is in control, why do unspeakably terrible things happen to so many good people?

Read my response, which probably makes me a bit of a heretic, here. Seriously, church folks may not like it. Consider yourself warned.

First Responses in the News!

It's good to have friends.

After my last post, about teaching as a vocation, a calling in the religious sense, lots of friends shared the link and it became my most-read piece ever. One friend shared it with David Waters, religion columnist at the Commercial Appeal and editor of FaithInMemphis.com, who then contacted me about writing a story about my sense of calling and vocation. (It's here, in case you can't wait.)

David is a tremendous talent and has won several awards. I read his column religiously religiously for years when I lived in Memphis previously and, upon moving back, I missed his voice. It turns out that he had taken a job with the Washington Post. I was glad to hear of his return this past year.

In short, I am a fan of David Waters. So I was excited to learn that he not only read my piece, but also liked it enough to devote an article on it.

Anyway, after getting everything cleared through the school district, David came out to our school and interviewed me. I enjoyed meeting him and he was a great guy to talk to. At that point, the understanding was that the article would be on how teaching, as well as other "secular" endeavors, could be a religious calling. Before he left, he let me know that he would be sending a photographer out at some point.

Then, the other day, we made arrangements for the photographer to come out. David said he really wanted the photos to come from one of my classes, so I scheduled a time that would allow me to prepare my class prior to his arrival. The class is from 7:30 until 8:25, so I told him to come at 8:00.

It was my understanding that only the photographer would be coming, so imagine my surprise when David shows up at about 7:15, when all but a few of my students were still eating breakfast. I didn't get a chance to prepare my kids, so I was hoping (and praying) that everything would go smoothly.

Fortunately, it did. In fact, the class went so well that I considered asking David to be a permanent fixture in my classroom. It was definitely one of the best classes I have had during my time in the classroom. It must have made an impression, too, because, when the article came out this morning, a large portion of it was devoted to the classroom experience.

And that is just fine with me. Teaching is not about drawing attention to yourself. If I wanted attention, I should have stayed in academia. No, teaching is about placing the focus on the kids, which is why I was glad to see that the photo used for the article included a student at the board with me.

Last night, my wife commented that it was like Christmas Eve, knowing that the article would be published today, but not quite knowing what it would contain.

My daughter woke up at 4:00 this morning and, after getting her back to sleep in our bed, I reached for my phone on the nightstand to read the article.

"It must be good. I can tell because you're smiling," commented my wife.

And it was. It is.

I didn't even realize that a smile had cracked. That's not my style.

But take a look here at the photo, see the face of that student, and try not to smile.

Calling, Vocation, and Public Education

I'm a teacher.

I am a teacher because I was called to be a teacher.

It's a job, technically, since I get paid.

Not much, mind you, but it's better than nothing. If you go into teaching for the money, you're in for a big letdown.

But teaching is more than a job to me. And it has to be if you want to be good at it. I was once told by a minister that, if you could be happy doing anything else, then you shouldn't be a minister. The same is true about teaching. If there is another "job" that you would be happy doing, then you shouldn't be teaching. Teaching has to be - HAS TO BE - a vocation.

Frederick Buechner defined vocation as the place where your greatest desire and the world's greatest need meet. He's spot on. If a task does not fulfill your desire, you will not do it well. You may at first, but the lack of satisfaction will wear on you and you just won't have the endurance to keep it up. On the other hand, if the world doesn't need it, if what you're doing isn't providing a positive contribution to society, then it's not worth doing and your work will feel empty. So you need both sides of the equation.

I knew for a long time that my desire was to work with young people. I wasn't exactly sure how or where, so I had all kind of different ideas. And they all involved teaching in some capacity. But none of them ever brought me peace. I considered church work, non-church religious work, private school teaching, teaching at a university, etc. I would have enjoyed myself doing any of these, but each would have been empty to some extent.

Then I had an epiphany of sorts. The greatest need in the world that crossed my greatest desire was and is the education of economically disadvantaged public school students.

There I was, Masters degree fresh in my hand, PhD applications started, private school teacher applications submitted...feeling all kind of uneasiness. But then an opportunity presented itself (an alternative teaching licensure program) and I felt a peace. I said that I'd give it a few years, that I could always go back and do PhD work, but you know right away if it's going to work.

And, yeah, it's a hard job. Actually, that's not true; it's more than that. It's hard as hell! I can't even begin to list all the factors weighing against "our babies," as we call our middle school students. The odds are stacked against them from before birth.

So, yeah, it's hard. But I would not be happy doing anything else. And, besides, if it were easy, it wouldn't be worth doing in my opinion.

To survive, to endure, to continue to bring the energy required each and every day, though, you have to have a calling, a vocation, a sense that you can't do anything else and still be satisfied. Teaching has to be something that grips you and won't let you go. It has to be something that you have to do, that you must do.

This has been left out of the current debate over the Memphis City Schools (MCS) charter surrender referendum.

Shelby County Schools (SCS) Board president David Pickler has been arguing that SCS doesn't believe in putting its best teachers in a few chosen schools. His reference is the MCS Optional Program. And his argument reveals his ignorance of how education really works.

You see, one of the best kept secrets in Memphis and Shelby County is that the best teachers are not necessarily at the schools with the highest test scores, the so-called "best" schools.

I am not saying that SCS doesn't have good teachers, nor am I saying that MCS Optional teachers aren't effective. Like any school or system, there are good and bad teachers in these settings.

What I am saying is that teachers in those settings do not have to be great for their students to achieve. Students in these schools generally enter Kindergarten already multiple years ahead and their parents make sure that they learn what is required even if their teachers are doing a poor job. Students in these schools know that much is expected of them, that they will graduate not only high school but college as well. Failure is not an option for these kids.

The same is not true, however, in the MCS neighborhood schools.

And that is why teachers in neighborhood schools must be great, must have a calling, must not be happy doing anything else. Teachers in our neighborhood schools must be the ones ready and willing and able to meet a challenge head-on. We have to convince our kids, we have to teach them that failure is not an option because they have been told, implicitly if not explicitly, that it is.

Our neighborhood schools have been an afterthought for far too long. MCS is doing great things to change this, giving struggling schools choice picks in the hiring process. Struggling schools are now given priority and are allowed to hire first. As a result, the best applicants are now being selected by the neighborhood schools.

Proponents of charter surrender need to be making this case. They need to say that Pickler is wrong, that SCS could actually learn something about staffing from MCS because our best teachers are now being funneled into the neighborhood schools where the need is greatest, not into the Optional Program as he claims.

The kids even notice this. I have had students who transfered from both SCS and the Optional Program tell me that our teachers are better. In those schools, you either get it or you don't, the kids say. And if you don't, too bad. These kids say that our teachers break problems down better and search for different ways to grasp a concept until one finally latches on. Our teachers do this on a daily basis because they have to. And that is why they are great.

It's the difference between one class of 8th graders reading on a 10th grade level and another reading on a 4th grade level. It's the latter that demand our best teachers. And that's why MCS has started trying to get our best teachers in those schools.

This same process needs to be implemented under a consolidated system if the referendum passes.

The new superintendent should throw down the gauntlet upfront and challenge all the best teachers in both the city and the county to seek employment at a neighborhood school, to turn around a failing school, to look for the greatest need.

Our leaders need to be out there making the case for teachers to really check themselves and their motives for teaching. They need to start trash talking, challenging SCS and Optional teachers to put their money where their mouths are, making the case that our best teachers work in our neighborhood schools, arguing that you will not be considered legendary unless you help turn around a struggling school.

Someone needs to be out there talking about calling and vocation. This would be great to hear from our faith leaders. They need to be making the case that God calls us to work with the least of these, which in education means the kids in Frayser and Binghampton, Hickory Hill and Hyde Park, down along 3rd Street. Teachers in the pews need to hear this and they need to be challenged to pray about where God really wants them to be.

Sure, there are some bad teachers out there. And, sure, some of them are in our under-performing schools. But I guarantee you that a great many of the teachers in our neighborhood schools are among the best at what they do. And I'm glad that I am able to learn on the job from so many of them.

We have 18 core classroom teachers at our school. And I can honestly say that I would want almost all of them teaching my own children. I would trust them with my own kids. Our teachers are that good.

The other few? Well, we need those spots filled.

And so, if you teach for SCS, if you teach in the Optional Program, if you teach in a private school, I'm calling you out.

Do you think that you are a good teacher? Prove it! Come, show us what you've got. If you really are a good teacher, then help end the achievement gap, help end the cycle of poverty, help us make a real difference in Memphis and Shelby County. Examine your purpose, your calling, your vocation. If you really are good, then we need you. We need you. Don't run away to less demanding jobs.

And while you're at it, tell Mr. Pickler and his Board that we've got a challenge for them too. We challenge you to prove that you have what it takes. Be leaders and accept the challenge of fixing the problems at these schools. If you really know how to run a top-notch school system, then what are you afraid of? Examine yourselves. Is education a calling for you? Is it your vocation? If so, then you just might want to consider what you are doing for the least of these, you just might want to consider where the greatest need is. If you know how to turn these schools around, then we need you. We need you. Don't run away from the challenge.

So, step up to the plate.

I dare you.

Where Is The Beloved Community?

I teach at a middle school whose student body is about 98% African-American and about 96% economically disadvantaged.

Let that sink in for a minute.

Out of a total of about 550 students, there are around 540 black kids, maybe 7 white kids, 2 Latino kids, and 1 kid from India.

And just about every single one of them gets free or reduced lunch.

Our school is not alone. It's the same all over town and it's the same all over the country.

In sum, what that means is the our schools have been re-segregated. (Or, disintegrated if you want to go with the Word of the Day from a recent episode of The Colbert Report.)

And we wonder why our nation seems so divided these days!

If there are black schools and white ones, black parts of town and white ones, what do you think our dialogue will look like? If there are rich schools and poor ones, rich neighborhoods and poor ones, what do you think dialogue will look like? Will we even have dialogue?

We are, quite literally, divided. And, until we can live in the same neighborhoods, go to the same schools, and sit down at the table with one another - until then we will continue to have the problems we have today.

I was thinking about this, especially the part on race, over the past week. Many people, black and white, fought hard to integrate our schools. Many suffered acts of violence and some even death. And here we are today, a decade into the 21st century, with our schools more segregated than they were at the time Martin Luther King, Jr., was killed. It's something I've thought about before, but Monday's holiday, celebrating the life of Dr. King, was the spark for this post.

Quite simply, we need to be exposed to those who are not like us in school, if nowhere else, because those experiences will shape how see the world as we grow up.

If I don't have any personal experience about a topic, there's a good chance that I'll believe - or at least be influenced by - whatever I hear from friends or through the media. When I watch the local news, I see a bunch of stories about crime and a good many of them involve African-American men. Now, that doesn't influence my perception of African-American men because I know plenty of African-American men who are not criminals. However, I know a lot of white folks who don't know any black folks personally. And, when they watch the news, they are convinced that all African-Americans are criminals. That's ridiculous, but a vacuum will be filled and that's what happens when we lack personal experience and interaction.

My family didn't have any black friends when I was growing up. But I was fortunate enough to attend diverse schools. One side of town was mostly white, while the other side of town was mostly black. The student bodies at those schools reflected this dynamic. We lived - and went to school - in the middle, so our schools were pretty diverse, even if our neighborhoods were not. As a result, I was exposed to the African-American community in a way I would not have been otherwise and I developed friendships with (and the occasional crush on) those who did not look like me. I am thankful for this experience today, for it has shaped the way I see the world.

This is what our city is lacking. This is what our nation is missing. This is what we need.
White kids need to grow up around black kids and black kids need to grow up around white kids.

It's as simple as that.

And it all starts in school.

(Im-)Perfection? The Case for a Sinning Christ

This past Sunday we celebrated the Baptism of our Lord.  And we sang a hymn that said, "he did not come for pardon, but as the sinless One."  Now, I know that it has been orthodoxy since pretty much the beginning of the church, but I've just never been big on the belief that Jesus never sinned.

Rather than being sinless, I think Jesus was the Christ, the Messiah, who then had to be made to fit the mold of what was expected by those who were (and are) expecting something.  In other words, his life first convinced people that he was the long-awaited one and then his followers had to make sure that he lived up with the hype that had been building for a thousand years.

There was a lot of expectation.  But everything we know about Jesus is that he broke the mold of what was expected!  If anything, his life was about teaching people to expect the unexpected!  And those who were not (and are not) expecting anything - you think they really cared about the expectations for the Messiah?

You see, there were (and are) some people who know better than to expect anything from anyone.  These are the people who have been taught by the harsh realities of life that they can stop expecting anything because they aren't even going to get anything.  Instead of expecting, they hope.  They hope beyond hope.  And, no, they are not hoping for President Obama or anyone else to come to their aid, for they have long given up on politicians.  They hope, rather, for something to break into our world and shake things up.

So, when Jesus comes and does just that, announcing that the poor are blessed, inviting criminals and all sorts of "bad" folks to the dinner party, turning over tables, and pronouncing the day of Jubilee - you think those outcasts of society cared a lick if he had ever sinned?  If you're not sure, let me help you out: No, hell no, they did not.  All they cared about was that this man fulfilled their wildest hopes.

Sure, there are some passages in the Bible that state or allude to the fact that Jesus is without sin.  They are found in what Christians call the New Testament (NT) and most of them rely on a sacrificial theology from what we call the Old Testament (OT).

But there are a couple of issues here.  One thing is that I have already expressed my doubts about the idea of God requiring blood sacrifice.  (See here, here, and here.)  There are some dissenting voices in the OT on this issue as well.  (See, especially, the Prophets.)  Without the logic of sacrifice, without a God who desires blood, without the necessity of an innocent to die for the sins of the guilty, the idea of Jesus being sinless isn't all that important.

I don't know if Jesus sinned or not.  All I'm saying is that the case seems kind of skewed.  It seems like the NT authors looked back to the sacrificial theology of (parts of) the OT, some of which was sometimes used to describe the anticipated Messiah, and made Jesus fit the mold of expectation.  The NT authors, especially Matthew, did this quite often - they took looked at what the OT said about the Messiah and then found a way to incorporate that into the story of Jesus, even if it had to be forced.

Here's the kicker, though: If Jesus did sin, that is actually more meaningful to me.  The humanity of Jesus is supposed to make us relate to him, and him to us, but I don't (can't?) relate to sinless humanity.  I don't know about you, but I can't even imagine sinless humanity.  And, even more importantly, I don't think a sinless human can really experience humanity as you and I do.

"What if God was one of us?" asked Joan Osbourne, to which a bunch of church folk answered that he was in the person of Jesus.  But, for me, "one of us" means flawed like us, struggling with imperfections like us, trying to find a way to get back up after falling down yet again like us.

A sinless Christ, however, is not like us.  A sinless Christ is above us, better than us, aloof to our experience, oblivious to our needs.  A Jesus without sin can't relate to the struggles of us everyday people.

I like the idea that Jesus has the ability to bring salvation because he was one of us; I just have a different understanding of what it means to be one of us.  And so I think it is only a sinning Jesus that can be truly called the Christ.

We need someone like us and I believe Jesus really was like us, imperfections and all.

Epiphany

Seeing is believing, or so they say.

And that's what  Epiphany, which we celebrated on Thursday, is all about.  Some see and some don't, plain and simple.

Now, there are many reasons for this.  Some people can't see, while others just don't.  Still others do all that they possibly can to avoid seeing - or at least seeing certain things.  But the reason doesn't matter - if you didn't see it, it's pretty hard to believe a lot of things.  And that's why I always thought Doubting Thomas got a bum rap.  He just wanted to see.  What's wrong with that?

But seeing isn't an end in itself.  It doesn't matter if you can see if you don't know what you are looking at.  A big part of Epiphany is the Magi following the star to find the Christ-child.  Now, if there really was a star like that, you can't tell me that they were the only ones to see it.  If they followed this star "from the East," it had to have been a pretty big deal and a lot of folks would have seen it.  But it takes a little more to know exactly what you're looking at.

"We see through a glass, dimly," said Paul.  By this, I take him to mean that no one sees things exactly as they are.  Rather, our vision is limited and we have to figure our what it is we are looking at.  We're stuck with interpretation, all the way down.  And that's why those Magi, who saw a star and figured out that it was pointing to something important - that's why they are called wise.

What star have I failed to see?  What star have I look right at without knowing what it was?  What is keeping me from being wise?

And, when I see a star, when I understand its importance, what do I do?  Do I share it with others?  Do I flaunt it, letting others know how special I am to have seen it?  Do I love my star so much as to have to denigrate the star another sees?

For that matter, is there only one star?  Is there only one meaning to a star?  Do I have possession of truth in its entirety?  Or can there be different stars, different visions, different interpretations, different epiphanies (or Epiphanies), each with a partial grasp of truth?

"Do you see what I see?" asks the great carol.  But, if you see something different, does that make you wrong?  If you see the same thing, but think it means something else, does that mean that you have a problem?  Does my vision trump yours?

That's the problem with Epiphany in a pluralistic society, when our friends and family and neighbors are different from us, when we respect and learn from and even love them.

But maybe that's our Epiphany today - that there are multiple visions, many interpretations, more than one Epiphany...and that that's okay.

If these Magi "from the East" came to visit a poor Jewish boy because they thought he was important, then maybe I need to learn from those different than me.

Maybe the point of Epiphany is not that I have some special knowledge to share with you, not that I need to make sure that you have an epiphany.  Maybe, just maybe, the whole point of Epiphany is for me to receive an epiphany, for me to be open to a new idea, a foreign concept, an epiphany from another tradition.

Philosophy At West Point

What should members of our military study?  What should they read?  What should they think about?  What is the relationship between their academic training and the duties that are to be expected of them?

These are the questions I've been pondering, thanks to a discussion on Facebook with an old (but not old) professor about Just War Theory (JWT) and the Principle of Double Effect (PDE).  It all started because I sent him this link to an Utne post about cadets at West Point being taught philosophy - and specifically JWT - to help them become better decision-makers.

Now, I am all for these cadets - hell, anyone! - learning some philosophy.  I think it makes one a better person.  However, I'm not convinced that philosophy makes one a better soldier.  There is a lot that is expected of a soldier, but the bottom line is that a soldier is trained to kill.  And I don't think philosophy helps in that regard.  Military strategy, sure, but not killing.

You see, philosophy is a practice done in community.  And, when two or three are gathered, the Bible may say God is there, but I can pretty much guarantee that you'll get some disagreement.  Well, when you disagree, you can fight about it or you can work through it.  Philosophy chooses that latter.

And, yes, I know that many philosophers throughout history have championed wars and violence.

But, when it comes down to it, philosophy is about sitting down at the table (or walking around, peripatetically, if you're a Stoic) and talking.  It's about disagreeing with my friends - and still being friends.  It's about learning that, if I don't even agree with my friends about everything, then maybe there are some things on which I agree with my enemies.  It's about realizing that we are all human, that we sometimes agree and sometimes disagree, whether we're friends or enemies.

And, if I figure out that my enemies aren't all that different from my friends, that my enemies are in fact a lot like me, then I probably don't want to kill them.

Now, I'm perfectly fine with that.  I think it's great, actually.  That's why I'm such an advocate for philosophy and dialogue.  That's why early Christians, who took that love your neighbor stuff pretty seriously, were seen as a threat.

But does the military really want its soldiers to think that way?

If they want to train killers, then they may want to reconsider their curriculum.