As a member of this journal’s editorial board, one of my duties is to read and evaluate articles submitted for publication as they are sent my way by the editor, Tom Christenson. When I read Gregory Clark’s article, I thought definitely that we should publish it. My main comment to Tom was that it would be greatly desirable to solicit respondents who might interrogate further the practicality of Clark’s proposal for church-related colleges. In the back of my mind, as I made that comment to Tom, I thought of how much I was looking forward to reading such responses when the issue came out. Tom had other ideas. He requested a response from me. What has resulted is actually some questions, derived mainly from my work as a scholar of biblical studies. I hope such questions prompt further comment—and further questions!—from readers.
Gregory Clark affirms the stance taken by John Milbank that all philosophies and institutions, whether ancient, modern, or postmodern, are built on an ontology of violence. In this way a critique is made of Alasdair MacIntyre’s position concerning the postmodern liberal university, which, for MacIntyre, would be a place of constrained agreement (and so, presumably, non-violent). The problem for Clark, who is following Milbank here, is that such a university, insofar as it engaged with other “institutionalized versions of moral enquiry,” would remain within an ontology of violence. For these engagements would be managed dialectically, and dialectics can never lead to harmony but, at most, only a sort of managed conflict which, in the end, is still violent.
Instead of an ontology of violence, Clark desires an ontology of peace. He argues that such an ontology of peace is to be found in the person of Jesus, the person who preeminently reveals “the God who is love and peace.” As a biblical scholar, my reaction is to interrogate the ways in which Jesus did, and did not, reveal such a God.
Jesus lived in a violent world. And far from shying away from that world and its violence, he seems to have deliberately opened himself up to it. Although his message was greeted frequently with suspicion, skepticism, and vilification, he did not back down or retreat from it, even when, as one account has it, the people of his own hometown attempted to kill him (Luke 4:14–30). Eventually he set his face toward Jerusalem, even though he knew the sharp opposition facing him there from the religious authorities. And, once in Jerusalem, he engaged in an act that most see as the precipitating event of his final suffering: the overturning of the moneychangers’ tables in the Temple itself. Although it may not have been as physically violent as has been depicted in such movies as Jesus Christ Superstar, the act at least had overtones of violence. Not only, then, does Jesus receive violence onto himself, here, at least, he actually imposes it on others. Jesus’ violence begets further violence, now enacted against him, as he is arrested, tried, scourged, and crucified—a sequence of events which, by all accounts, was horrifically violent.
Not only was violence a part of Jesus’ life, he also warned his followers that such would be their fate: “Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword. For I have come to set a man against his father, and a daughter against her mother and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law; and one’s foes will be members of one’s own household” (Matt. 10:34–36; cf. Luke 12:51–53).
If, indeed, the God who is found in Jesus is a God of love and peace, it seems that the love and peace comes about in and through the acceptance of violence—and the suffering that often accompanies such violence. The events of the Passion, which lie at the very center of Jesus’ life and mission, are an overwhelming witness to Jesus’ ready acceptance of, and patient bearing of, the violence being inflicted upon him. Followers of Jesus forget this at their own peril, for the message to them, too, is that if love and peace will be constitutive of their lives, such will not occur unaccompanied by, or exclusive of, violence.
If we do as Gregory Clark urges us to do, and proclaim Jesus on our campuses, what would that look like? In particular, what would it mean if we took to heart the Jesus who made himself vulnerable to the violence of his world? We, too, live in a violent world. Dare we look unblinkingly into the face of such violence, take it upon ourselves, and even, if called upon to do so, bear up and suffer in some way because of it? As staff, administrators, and teachers on college campuses related to the church, how might our tasks be affected, even altered, by a serious living out of the words?
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Editorial
The Vocation of a Lutheran College: Some Transitional Thoughts
James M. Unglaube
Unglaube offers final reflections on thirty years in Lutheran higher education as he leaves the ELCA Division for Higher Education and Schools to join Carthage College, his alma mater. He recalls colleague Richard Solberg’s influence, the closing of Upsala College in 1995, the Higher Education and Namibia program shared with Naomi Linnell, the growth of endowments from $70 million to $1 billion in 25 years, and the Vocation of a Lutheran College project he credits Paul Dovre with inspiring. He likens the twenty-eight ELCA colleges to flowers on a rose bush—same Lutheran tradition, each blossom different—requiring constant nurture if the partnership between church and college is to thrive.
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Editorial
From the Editor
Tom Christenson
Christenson thanks the departing Jim Unglaube, recommends Ronald A. Wells’s Keeping Faith: Embracing the Tensions in Christian Higher Education (Eerdmans) as both an interesting collection of essays and a model worth imitating at ELCA institutions, previews the issue’s pieces by Richard Hughes, Carl Skrade and Spencer Porter, Gregory Clark, and Karla Bohmbach, and introduces three new features of the journal: “What I Have Learned” (an essay by a senior or emeritus faculty member, inaugurated by Richard Ylvisaker), “Reviews” (initiated by Karla Bohmbach), and a “Bulletin Board” for cross-campus announcements.
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Article
Our Place in Church-Related Higher Education in the United States
Richard Hughes
Adapting his 1997 Vocation of a Lutheran College Conference address, Hughes asks how the Lutheran heritage can sustain the life of the mind in church-related higher education. He compares Reformed, Mennonite, and Catholic traditions in turn—the Reformed integration of faith and learning around a Christian worldview, the Mennonite priority of discipleship over cognition, and the Catholic sacramental affirmation of the secular as bridge—before arguing that the Lutheran heritage’s particular gifts (justification by grace, theology of the cross, two kingdoms, paradoxical sensibility, vocation, and openness to ambiguity) uniquely support rigorous inquiry, genuine pluralistic conversation, and critical analysis. Drawing on Arthur Holmes, John Howard Yoder, Mark Schwehn, Alasdair MacIntyre, and Lutheran writers including Bob Benne and Tom Christenson, Hughes contends that Lutheran finitude grounds an unusually open and self-critical academic posture.
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Article
The Skeptical Theologian's Dictionary
Carl Skrade, Spencer Porter
Porter and Skrade offer selections from a mock-lexicon of theological terms: answer, church, faith, God, grace, hope, justification, love, prayer, sin, soul, and theology, among others. Each entry begins with a standard definition and then unsettles it—answer reminds the reader that in theology and poetry the questions matter more than their answers; church alternates between “the mystical Body of Christ” and ordinary human gatherings whose machinery often obscures the gospel; God is the One whose name we are told not to take in vain and yet whose name we keep using; prayer is communion with God yet often degenerates into a list of demands. The form’s irony exposes the gap between the language of theology and its lived realities—a sober, witty corrective for Lutheran classrooms and chapels alike.
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Article
The University in the City of God: Beyond Dialectics and Rhetoric
Gregory A. Clark
Clark, drawing on Alasdair MacIntyre’s Three Rival Versions of Moral Enquiry, distinguishes the preliberal, liberal, and postliberal university and argues that the liberal university’s pretense of dialectical neutrality has masked a particular rhetoric of its own. Following John Milbank’s Theology and Social Theory, he holds that every philosophy and institution is finally a rhetoric and that the church’s task is not to win on the secular university’s terms but to proclaim and embody an alternative city. The Christian college, then, should give up the apologetic pose of meeting secular reason halfway and instead practice the rhetoric of the gospel: a proclamation of Jesus, an enactment of Christian friendship and peace, and a willingness to be vulnerable to the violence of the world as Jesus was vulnerable to his own. Clark commends this stance to colleges related to the church.
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Article
What I Have Learned: Maybe Plato Was Right
Richard Ylvisaker
Inaugurating the new “What I Have Learned” column, Ylvisaker reflects on a career of teaching philosophy at Luther College and offers four hard-won “preliminary examples” in which Plato turned out to be more right than fashionable criticism allowed: (1) communities are not necessarily better off by becoming more diverse—diversity needs a unity of purpose if it is to enrich rather than fragment; (2) politics, to be more than a struggle for power by competing interests, must rest on a moral basis that transcends those interests; (3) the much-derided body-soul dualism contains a measure of truth about the cognitive and moral limitations of embodied life; and, deepest of all, (4) reason itself depends on a community of discourse in which doctrinaire pronouncement gives way to disciplined inquiry. Athens and Jerusalem, he concludes, should meet at the college of the church.
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Article
A Response to Paul Santmire: The Lutheran Liberal Arts College and Care for the Earth
Arthur A. Preisinger
Preisinger commends much of Paul Santmire’s earlier essay—the critique of the “back-to-nature” cult, the call for a holistic environmental ethos, the suggestion of a cosmic liturgical praxis—but takes issue with Santmire’s reading of classical Lutheran social ethics. He argues that the two kingdoms doctrine was not a systematic Lutheran treatise (the term itself became common only in the 1930s), that the doctrine’s misuse by some twentieth-century German theologians does not condemn its proper use, and that the South African Council of Churches actually deployed the doctrine (correctly interpreted) against apartheid. Drawing on Karl Hertz, Ulrich Duchrow, Tom Strieter, and F. Edward Cranz, Preisinger defends the doctrine as complementary duality—left hand and right hand of God, governances to be distinguished but never separated—and concludes with Bill Lazareth that the skeletons in the Lutheran closet are not Luther but departures from Luther.
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Article
A Response to Paul Santmire
Don Braxton
Braxton appreciates the dialectical structure of Santmire’s mandates—“skeletons in our closets and riches in our own vaults”—and reads it as a faithful expression of the Lutheran tradition of Paul, Augustine, and Luther. He argues that Santmire is on target in warning against premature flight to non-Christian traditions for environmental wisdom (theoretical sensitivity does not translate into ecological behavior in practice), and that classical Lutheran social ethics has too often been quietistic. But Lutheran ethics at its best is dialectical, not dualistic—recognizing the interpenetration of church and world, Law and Gospel, eschatological Kingdom and present realities, as in Hegel, Ritschl, Bonhoeffer, Reinhold Niebuhr, and Larry Rasmussen. Braxton commends environmental responsibility, social criticism of unsustainable practices, and a liturgical practice of resistance to instrumentalism as appropriate next steps for Lutheran liberal arts colleges, especially Capital University.
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Book Review
In Search of a Calling: The College's Role in Shaping Identity
Karla G. Bohmbach
Bohmbach reviews Thomas O. Buford’s In Search of a Calling: The College’s Role in Shaping Identity (Mercer University Press, 1995), which diagnoses a meaning-crisis among college students and traces two historical aspects of “calling”: the biblical, communitarian aspect rooted in the Hebrew Bible and the practical, individualistic aspect rooted in the Renaissance. She praises Buford’s reconstruction of imago dei as imagination rather than copy of God’s rationality, his broad disciplinary range (biblical studies, theology, educational psychology, business management), and his identification of the tension between freedom and limitation as the field of calling. She is sharply critical, however, of his final chapter’s wariness of canon-revisionists and multiculturalists, his caricature of “special-interest groups,” and his presumption of a homogeneous student body—a presumption that, she argues, never matched American college reality and matches it less today.
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Editorial
From the Editor
Tom Christenson
No. 9 · Summer 2000
Christenson introduces a varied issue: the VonDohlen / Ratke discussion of the two kingdoms doctrine, Rachel Hammond’s “real gem” of a talk on her time in Ecuador (with an invitation to send contributions to the Home for Perpetual Hope orphanage via her home church in Oberlin, Ohio), Chuck Huff’s essay on the effect of liberal learning on the practice of psychology, and John Reumann’s reflection on a scholarly life lived between academy and church—and notes that the cover artist is his eight-year-old daughter Zoé, whose post-circus drawing of a balancing act struck him in light of Reumann’s opening line.
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Article
Honesty of Mind: On the Uses and Abuses of Socratic Ignorance in Environmental Studies, Religion, and the Classroom
Don Braxton
No. 15 · Winter 2002
Braxton, taking his cue from David James Duncan’s defense of ignorance as a fly-fisher’s most crucial tool and from Socrates’ midwife’s art in the Theaetetus, defends a doctrine of “honesty of mind” resting on four premises—knowledge is constructed, judgments are wagered amid imperfect knowledge, expertise can disable learning, and we are encumbered by other ways of knowing. He field-tests the disposition against three domains: the climate-change and creationism debates in environmental studies, the post-September 11 turn toward religious pluralism (engaging Union Seminary’s Joseph Hough and Hauer and Young’s “three-world” approach to the Bible), and the liberal arts classroom where students “become democrats of the mind” through Reinhold Niebuhr’s balance of conviction and contrition.
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Editorial
From the Editor
Tom Christenson
No. 17 · Summer 2003
Christenson introduces the four essays by participants in the first Lutheran Academy of Scholars as fruit of the “genuine conversation” that emerges when specialists set aside their lecturers’ podiums to speak as human beings, and welcomes the issue’s additional “Intersections first”—a response to a response to a review—continuing the conversation between Baird Tipson and Robert Benne about the paradigm of Lutheran higher education.
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Article
Ethical Leadership: Rooted, Open, Generative, and Mindful
John Arthur Nunes
No. 62 · Fall 2025
As he prepares to teach an Ethical Leadership First Year Seminar at California Lutheran, Nunes organizes his pedagogy around three mutually-reinforcing “turns” — inward, outward, and intellectual — grounded in Luther’s mandatum dei and larvae dei, Bonhoeffer’s estates, and Howard Thurman’s call to hear “the sound of the genuine” in oneself.
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Editorial
From the Publisher
Arne Selbyg
No. 22 · Spring 2006
Selbyg notes that both the ELCA and Intersections have undergone major changes this year—the Division for Higher Education and Schools is gone, replaced by the Educational Partnerships and Institutions group within the Vocation and Education unit, and the journal has a new editor (Robert Haak), a new home at Augustana College, a new printer, and a new design. He commends the issue’s focus on human sexuality and points readers to the first draft of Our Calling in Education.
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Article
No Child Left Behind Meets Philip Melanchthon: A Reflective Conversation
Kathy Book
No. 26 · Fall 2007
Inspired by Tim Lull’s My Conversations with Martin Luther, Book imagines an interview with Philip Melanchthon in the cobblestone courtyard of the University of Wittenberg, in which the Praeceptor Germaniae reflects on his pedagogy (Socratic questioning, brevity and example, declamations, repetition, and interdisciplinary connections), his graded curriculum from primer to university, and his collaboration with Luther on the responsibility of community, parents, and government for the education of all children — and finds his vision strikingly resonant with the No Child Left Behind legislation of 2006.