Some Limitations on Faith & Learning Integration

 

Introduction

Much has been written over the past several decades on the subject of integration of faith and learning.1  I hesitate, then, to offer up another and more feeble attempt to address this profound idea.  A survey of the current corpus of the faith-learning integration literature will yield a plethora of definitions, explanations, descriptions, applications and, above all, exhortations to both the theory and practice of integration.  What I fear is lacking, however, in our ongoing consideration of this subject is the acknowledgement and understanding of the existence of some limitations on faith and learning integration.  An awareness of these very real and intended limitations will, I believe, prompt us to engage in the endeavor with humility born of human finitude and fallenness, and in so doing, persevere in our continuing efforts to attain the goal of faith and learning integration.

That goal, in its most essential expression, is to achieve human completeness – the ανθρωπος τελιος.  Dietrich Bonhoeffer aptly described this goal when he wrote from his Nazi prison cell:  “the Christian and the man of liberal education . . . cannot split up his life or dismember it, and the common denominator must be sought in a personal and integrated attitude to life.  The man who allows himself to be torn into fragments by events and by questions has not passed the test for the present and the future.” Bonhoeffer Letters 200).  Indeed, Bonhoeffer was echoing in his words the wisdom of Solomon who admonished his children to the integrated life.  “The integrity of the upright guides them, but the unfaithful are destroyed by their duplicity.” (Proverbs 11:3 NIV).  Integration is thus the road to the future as well as the praxis for fully engaging the present experience of what it means to be human.

While this noble goal is a certain part of our divinely purposed future, there currently exists impairments that impose limitations on our attainment of human completeness in the here and now.  The purpose of this essay is to provoke a consideration of the origin, extent and implications of these limitations on faith and learning integration.  As to their origin, I will suggest that the limitations are both inherent in human nature – matters of creation – and acquired in human experience – matters of the fall.  As to their extent, I will contend that the limitations broadly impair perception, understanding and implementation of knowledge.  And finally, I will argue that the implications of these limitations should lead all who seek to integrate faith and learning to acknowledge that, though the goal of human completeness cannot be fully attained in present experience, we must continue our journey along this road understanding that integration is a mutually interdependent, dynamic process within the human community.  In short, we need one another to progress along the path.  A solitary traveler is doomed to destruction.

Origin of the Limitations

To be human is to be limited.  Though throughout the history of humankind, men and women have exerted great energies to overcome the limitations that naturally adhere to our species, and though some of those attempts have met with measures of success, as in the arenas of medicine, communication and transportation, to name only some of the obvious ones – humans are still confronted with the undeniable reality that we are limited not only in time and space, but also in knowledge and understanding.  These limitations came into existence at our origin and then have been exacerbated by human experience. 

At the point of origin, the human is limited by the delineation of the space occupied by the person and the duration of time one will survive.  In addition to these externally apparent limitations, the human, i.e. the creature, is limited internally.  The human is capable of acquiring only a finite measure of knowledge.  Although Aristotle asserted that in knowing “the soul is in a certain manner all existing things” (emphasis added),2 humanity can not escape its limitations by an individualistic knowing as Aristotle’s point itself admits.

Professor Richard Hughes emphasizes the importance of the learner’s recognition of the existence of such limitations upon the individual.  “My first objective in every class I teach is to help my students develop an appreciation for human finitude, for limits, for the ambiguity of the human situation – even for the inevitability of death . . . . We begin with the one conviction that Christian faith and serious academic exploration share in common:  an affirmation of our limitations as human beings.” (Hughes 107). These human limitations are thus limitations are all human endeavors, and as such they impose limitations upon the process of integration of faith and learning.  But simply acknowledging the limitedness of the human due to nature as a created being is an insufficient explanation of the origin of the limitations. One cannot more completely understand their origin without a consideration what effect man’s fall from his original state of creation had on human capabilities to know.

Just whether and to what extent the fall had an affect upon our human ability to know and understand truth has been an issue of debate through the ages.   Aquinas taught that the fall did not affect man as a whole but only in part; specifically, the will was fallen or corrupted but the intellect was not affected.  (Schaeffer 52).  In his article, “The Splendor of Knowledge,” John Young expounds the Thomist perspective.

St. Thomas Aquinas points out that the perfection of each created thing is incomplete and that knowing things have a remedy for this incompleteness because “there is found another mode of perfection in created things, according as the perfection which is proper to one thing is found in another thing; and this is the perfection of a knower inasmuch as it is a knower.” (De Veritate, q. 2, a. 2).  This explains man’s deep urge to know, especially to know the noblest things.  He is one individual, limited by space and time.  However, through knowledge he transcends the confines of his human nature and becomes many things.  And he burst the limits of space and time by knowing things existing outside the small area in which his body subsists, and in times other than the present.  We know only imperfectly.  But to the extent that we know, we have become the known.  The potentiality to know has become actual knowledge, and this knowledge is the reality, so far as it is known.6 (Young 18-19)

Though Aquinas recognized a measure of limitation upon the ability to know, some have contended that he failed to appreciate fully the depth of the effect the fall had upon man’s reason, perception and understanding of truth.  For example, Francis Schaeffer argues that Aquinas’ teaching that the fall corrupted only man’s will and not his mind was the seed bed of the humanism that arose later in the Renaissance because it “opened the way for people to think of themselves as autonomous and the center of all things.”  (Schaeffer 55-56).

Without attempting to resolve this debate, we may assert that, at least, the limitations inherent in humanness were accentuated and exacerbated by man’s willful assertion in disobedience to the divine design.  “Man’s wisdom is limited both because he is finite and because he is fallen.”  (Curtis 221).   Humans were created as meaning-seeking and meaning-producing creatures, but these capacities are limited and warped by both man’s finite and fallen condition.  (Clark & Gaede 75).  While God’s absolute truth is available to us, through his revelation and our reason, our finitude limits, contextualizes and diversifies our understandings of it; our fallenness leads us to resist, distort and misuse the truth in self-serving ways.  (Clark & Gaede 79).

Extent of the Limitations

Having acknowledged that limitations are part and parcel of being human, the one who seeks to integrate faith and learning must also consider the extent to which these limitations impair the pursuit toward the attainment of integration’s goal.  An effort to set forth an analysis of this scope could range from the overly simplistic to the extremely complex.  While the former would likely fail to confront the varied dimensions of the limits, the latter most certainly would lead to theoretical speculations of diminished practical value in providing guidance along the integration journey.  Yet, a careful consideration of just how far these limitations extend must, at a minimum, address the essential aspects of perception, understanding and implementation of knowledge.

First, there is the limitation of perception.  To be human means, in part, to have the ability to perceive what exists outside of one’s self.  Such abilities ordinarily include “seeing” and “hearing,” as well as the other senses, but perception is not exercised solely by the senses.  The physical senses, though, serve to illustrate the limitation of perception.  Humans, even those without extraordinary disabilities, still have limited ranges of both sight and hearing, and thus the ability to perceive fully is always impaired. With respect to the spiritual dimension of sight, the Apostle Paul wrote, “For now we see in a mirror dimly . . .” (I Corinthians 13:12).  Both physically and spiritually the human’s ability to see is faulty. “Our vision is flawed, imperfect, limited, imprecise, skewed.”  (Reichenbach 23).  These deficiencies have analogies to all the means of perception, whether sensual or intuitive.  Humans are possessed of dim eyes restricted by blinders, dense ears stopped-up with wax, callous fingers seared by heat, dull tongues coated with phlegm and blocked noses clogged with congestion.  Applying the reality of limited perception to the task of integration within the academic context, Reichenbach concludes, “Professing must be done from humility brought on by the recognition of our extreme finitude . . . . Socrates was correct:  to recognize one’s limits is the beginning of wisdom.” (Reichenbach 23)

Second, there is the limitation of human understanding.  This aspect of limitation both flows from limited perception and accentuates the restraints upon the achievement of human completeness in the present experience.  The writer of Ecclesiastes describes the effect of an impaired ability to understand that is characteristic of all humans regardless of intellectual capabilities.  “I saw all the work of God, that man cannot find out the work that is done under the sun.  However much man may toil in seeking [to understand], he will not find it out.  Even though a wise man claims to know, he cannot find it out.  (Ecclesiastes 8:17 ESV).  Individual man is limited in his ability to process the information that his limited perception has acquired from outside himself.  Levels of cognitive ability vary from one individual to another as a result of both inherent aptitude and acquired skills that depend upon opportunities for their development.  Yet, in every case human understanding of any particular field of knowledge remains incomplete.  No one individual can perceive it all.  No one individual can understand it all, even when the object of that individual’s perception and subsequent efforts at understanding is very narrowly defined.  Moreover, while God is the source of all truth, and this truth is absolute, our understanding of that truth is relative, incomplete, selective and distorted by our human condition.  (Clark & Gaede 76).

Thus far in the explanation of the extent of human limitations, one might be left with a feeling of near hopelessness arising from the recognition that human perception of knowledge is obscured and human understanding of knowledge is incomplete and often distorted.  Yet, the one who endeavors to integrate faith and learning “must agree with Socrates that it is essential that we [continue to] search for the things we do not know with the expectation that there is something to know.” (Reichenbach 18) (emphasis in the original).  To the expectation that there is something to know, however, must be added an expectation that knowledge can be perceived and understood, albeit in an admittedly limited measure in the here and now.  So, one engaging in the process of integration must, by necessity, continue to ask and think as he interacts with others along the journey toward the goal of human completeness.

In this integration endeavor, we must recognize at least one more aspect of the extent of the limitations on the achievement of its objective. That is the limitation of implementation.  Limited perception yields some information, and limited understanding gives rise to some insight.  Left at this stage, knowledge so acquired has a strong tendency within the human to produce personal pride.  As the Apostle Paul said, “Knowledge puffs up.” (I Corinthians 8:1).  In order to avoid this pitfall, the one who seeks to integrate faith and learning should give attention to Bonventure in his work On the Reduction of the Arts to Theology.7   Knowledge perceived and understood should lead one to love God and others, and thus to act.  Zachary Hayes articulates this point.

For Bonaventure, the important issue, is, above all, knowledge integrated into the spiritual journey toward love; love of God and love of one’s fellow human beings.  It is clear that Bonaventure has a high regard for the intellectual life, but he never envisioned knowledge independently of the only goal that the human person finally has:  loving union with God. (Hayes 9).

Bonaventure, as well as the one engaged in the process of integration, follows upon Paul’s prior point that, though knowledge in and of itself puffs up, knowledge that leads to love “builds up” (I Corinthians 8:1b).  Edification of others, though, is impaired by an inability to act completely.  Man is confronted with limits in the implementation of knowledge by again both his finitude and fallenness.

The vital connection between the implementation of knowledge and our experience of love for God and others is further expressed by Gorman in her recent article on transformational learning.  “Since God is truth the experiencing of truth (all truth) should lead us to God and knowing God.  Truth, therefore is to be transformational.  For the believer, the goal of all things is to recognize and live in the reality of that truth as God designed and declared it.  The “telos” (purpose/maturity) is to fully carry out that for which we are designed.  We teach to enable others to believe God.”  (Gorman 26).  But, the limitation on implementation impairs the full transformative impact of knowledge in present human experience.  Faith and learning integration is an essential aspect of education, and true education is at its soul a transformative experience, as Gorman expounds.  Indeed, transformation of the learner indicates the progress of the educational process.  While a measure of progress along this path can be made, humans are limited in their ability to act fully upon what they have perceived and come to understand through education.

While the extent of these limitations must be admitted as present impairments to integration, the one who seeks still to integrate faith and learning can yet continue this endeavor with expectation of progress toward the goal as he acknowledges and depends upon the aid of others. Truth does indeed exist in an absolute form.  Though a limited, individual human cannot come to know – that is perceive, understand and act upon – that truth absolutely, a single human can know certain aspects of truth with certitude.  Individual man, however, cannot know the whole of truth with certainty.  Each individual possesses past experiences, perceives from present perspectives and projects future expectations.  All of these dimensions of individuality contribute to the shaping of that person’s presuppositions and biases.  As such, each individual is uniquely situated for and particularly limited in the process of integration.  Consequently, there is, of necessity, a need for others with their varying experiences, perspectives, expectations and interests to assist along the journey toward a more holistic integration of faith and learning and thus, toward more complete humanness.

Implications of the Limitations

Having now suggested both the origin and extent of the present limitations on the process of faith and learning integration, there follows implications that should persuade all who profess to engage in this noble enterprise of at least three conclusions.  First, the goal of attaining human completeness cannot be fully experienced either individually or even communally in the here and now.  Human finitude will remain.  Time and space restrictions will persist in spite of increases in the speed of both transportation of people and transfer of information.  Humans will remain capable of only being in one place at any given time.  Human fallenness will continue at least until the ultimate restoration of the redeemed creation. While this present earth remains, the fallenness of creation will continue to impair man’s progress toward maturity, toward completeness.  Ultimate human completeness awaits a future eschatological event – “when he appears, we (note John’s use of the plural) shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is.  (I John 3:2b).  This is the telos to which human creatures are designed.  So those who engage in integration must look ahead, but this does not mean that we are then to sit idly by and merely await a fate.  

Rather, the second conclusion implied by the limitations on integration is that the present process is dynamic and developing.  Integration understood within the context of these limitations is, as alluded to above, analogous to efforts of Socrates posing queries to his students in Athens.  Reichenbach observes:  “Socrates’ method never yields certainty, for every belief advanced is subject to scrutiny, the outcome of which remains tentative even should it survive Socratic questioning.  The tentativeness comes form the recognition that knowledge is not indubitable certainty.  At the same them, however, neither are we left with agnosticism, which places all claims on equal footing.” (Reichenbach 19).  So it is with the developing process of integration and the engagement of the mind.  “The Christian mind must be dynamic, flexible and able to expand and develop as we clarify and correct our knowledge of truth.” (Gangel 105, quoting Carlson).  Truth remains constant and absolute, yet our human perception and understanding of and action upon aspects of truth will continue to develop.

A serious consideration of how this development most effectively occurs brings us to the final and most formidable implication arising from the existence of these limitations upon faith and learning integration. For in order to experience ongoing development toward the goal of human completeness, the one seeking to integrate needs to engage in an interactive process within the human community.  It cannot be done alone solely with the thoughts arising within an individual mind.  Rather, thoughts and ideas, perceptions and understandings, words and actions must be subjected to the examination of others through listening to and questioning of other fellow travelers on the path.  For the teacher who “professes” this will mean a recognition that “though in my profession I believe that I am correct and indeed am willing to make the relevant commitments based on that belief – and in the case of religious beliefs, the risk of faith – yet I am willing to have others explore the truth-claim for themselves.”  (Reichenbach 20).  For students – and in a real way we are all students – this will mean the acknowledgement of the continuing need for “a teacher as a catalyst and a guide, one who has struggled and is struggling with similar questions and knows some of the pertinent materials and procedures.” (Holmes).

This implication calls for those who seek to integrate to participate in what has been called a “faith and learning community.” (Williams 82).  According to Clifford Williams, such a community is characterized by a lively interest in learning where “teachers express their enthusiasm for thinking and learning, partly to engender student interest but mainly because it is one of their life passions.”  (Williams 83).  This community fosters an ethos that seeks to avoid a split (against which Bonhoeffer had warned) between faith, on the one hand, and learning, on the other. All of its community intellectual exploration is part of a larger commitment to seek and gain meaning by contemplating varying responses to the persistent questions of life. Finally, Williams envisions this community of learners being lead by teachers who consider themselves learners devoted to a life-long process and who promote a cooperative rather than competitive spirit among all within the community. (Williams 83).  The “faith and learning” community, however, must not be limited to only those of “like minds”, but instead should and must remain an un-walled, un-gated campus always inviting others to join in the journey.

Understanding these implications of the limitations on integration opens us beyond the realm of the “like-minded” to a broader community of learning informed by a variety of perspectives.  For example, as Williams further suggests, we may learn from the post-modernist view an appropriate distrust in human abilities to discover truth about reality.  (Williams 79).  This should lead the one seeking to integrate faith and learning to be cautious about what is declared to be absolute truth.  Furthermore, we may gain insight from the post-modernist’s valuing of diversity.  (Williams 80).   In our efforts toward integration, we need to appreciate and listen to varying perspectives arising out of the diversity of cultural traditions and contexts.  (Williams 80).  Thus, not only can integration never be an individualistic endeavor, neither should it be a parochial one.  

In short, we need one another. We need to listen and pose questions to each other.  Faith and learning integration calls for enrichment from “‘other fields’ to both provide insight and to gain insight from the academic disciplines as mutual searches for God’s revealed truth.” (Estep 60).  This conclusion is likewise supported by the notion of the “sociology of knowledge” as articulated by Clark & Gaede in their essay, “Knowing Together: Reflections on a Holistic Sociology of Knowledge” where they state:

[T]he recognition of our limited perspectives and understanding points to the need for a more communal, multi-perspectival effort to apprehend truth.  By listening to and testing the views of those with different experiences and interests (including the oppressed and marginal), we are more likely to discover errors and omissions in our viewpoint.  Thus by reaching beyond our contextual perspectives and their limits, we may better approach the truth which transcends relativism.   (Clark & Gaede 83)

Thus the limitations on faith and learning integration, i.e. our human limitations, when recognized and acted upon, will draw us together into a community of believing learners striving with the aid of one another toward our common goal.  Together we will pose to one another the questions and listen to the responses that will enable integration to develop as we ask, think and act together seeking knowledge of truth. 

Conclusion

The fundamental integration inquiry is:  how does a particular academic discipline – what one is seeking to study and learn about – present responses to the persistent questions of life?  What is the nature of reality? What is good?  What does it mean to live a good life?  How does one become a really good person?  What is truth?  What is beauty?  What is justice?  In seeking to integrate faith and learning as we listen to and reflect upon the responses to these questions from our fellow travelers, we are thereby informed by a broadening spectrum of disciplines, experiences, insights and interests.  Bonhoeffer once again provides instructive insight on the interdependence of all those who seek truth.

The death and the life of the Christian is not determined by his own resources; rather he finds both only in the Word that comes to him from the outside, in God’s Word to him . . . . God has willed that we should seek and find His living Word in the witness of a brother, in the mouth of man. Therefore, the Christian needs another Christian who speaks God’s Word to him.  He needs him again and again when he becomes uncertain and discouraged, for by himself he cannot help himself without belying the truth.  (Bonhoeffer, Life Together 22)

As we thus listen to and strive to understand the ideas of others in response to integration’s inquiry we will begin and continue to make progress along the path of integration of faith and learning.  Arthur Holmes described this experience as “an opportunity to become whole and to see life whole rather than provincially fragmented I one way or another.” (Holmes 36).  In our efforts toward achieving the goal of integration – the ανθρωπος τελιος − we must acknowledge that though we are limited in our ability to attain this goal, it is a worthy object of our efforts toward which we may labor as we seek together to think and live wholly and completely in the here and now.

LEGAL MODELS FOR THE OLD TESTAMENT COVENANTS: An Issue of Contract or Real Property Law?

 Introduction

The covenants set forth in the Old Testament express God’s relationship with his people. A proper apprehension of the formulation of these covenants is, therefore, critical to a thorough understanding of that relationship. Old Testament scholars have focused upon the Hittite suzerain-vassal treaty and the Babylonian royal land grant as cultural contexts in which God expressed his covenants with his people.1

While such scholars as Mendenhall, McCarthy and Weinfeld have analyzed examples of these two legal models in the ancient texts and have applied their respective component parts to explain features of the Old Testament covenants, some have confused the concepts of contract and real property law in the process of their analysis and application. In this paper I contend that applications of both the suzerain-vassal treaty and the royal land grant as models for the Old Testament covenants are better understood in the light of principles of real property law rather than the law of contracts.

Principles of Contract and Real Property Law

Before undertaking an analysis of the treaty and grant models, a brief explanation of the fundamental concepts of and distinctions between contract and real property law will prove helpful. Both contract and property have been foundational virtually to all ordered societies throughout recorded history. While refined over the centuries, the essential rules of both contract and property law have remained for the most part constant. Therefore, even contemporary articulations of these legal themes provide a valid definitional basis for consideration of ancient judicial formulae.

A succinct description of the fundamental elements of contract is set forth in the American Law Institute’s

Restatement (Second) of Contracts

"A contract is a promise or a set of promises for the breach of which the law gives a remedy or the performance of which the law in some way recognizes a duty."2

The essence of contract is promise. A legally enforceable contract requires (1) an agreement (i.e. "offer and acceptance" or "a meeting of the minds"), (2) consideration (i.e. something of legal value given in exchange for the promise expressed in the agreement), (3) capacity (i.e. the legal and factual ability of the parties to understand and enter into the agreement), and (4) a legal purpose. Hence, contract presupposes a bargained-for exchange between parties possessing the ability to perform the promise or promises made.

While contract is founded upon promise, property law is based upon right, or more accurately, a bundle of rights. Modern notions of real property law developed from feudal enfeoffment. Blackstone, in his

Commentaries on the Laws of England,

has stated: "[I]t became a fundamental maxim and necessary principle . . . of our English tenures, ‘that the king is the universal lord and original proprietor of all the lands in his kingdom; and that no man doth or can possess any part of it, but what has mediately or immediately been derived as a gift from him, to be held upon feodal [sic] services.’"3

The grant of rights in the land derived from the sovereignty of the king. The rights granted included title (i.e. ownership), possession, use and alienation (i.e. the ability of the grantee to transfer his rights to others).

Having now a conceptual understanding of the principles of contract and real property law, we may progress to an evaluation of the legal models for covenants in the Old Testament. Since the expressions of covenant are frequently articulated in terms of promise, a tendency to confuse the covenantal relationship with a contractual one can often occur.

When, however, both the suzerain-vassal treaty and the royal grant models are viewed in the light of the distinguishing aspects of contract vis-a-vis property, there emerges a pattern demonstrating that the covenantal formulations are more closely akin to concepts of real property than to contract law.

Suzerain-Vassal Treaty

The comparison of the Old Testament covenants to ancient treaty formulations is a relatively recent development in Biblical scholarship. In 1954, G.E. Mendenhall was one of the first scholars to analogize the structure of the Sinai covenant with the suzerain-vassal treaties of the Hittites from the fourteenth and thirteenth centuries B.C.

Mendenhall delineated striking similarities between the six-part treaty formula and both Exodus 19-24 and the entire book of Deuteronomy. While this analogy between the treaty model and the Sinai covenant was indeed valid, subsequent scholarship, as represented by the work of D.J. McCarthy, has erroneously extended the treaty model to encompass contract law concepts.

In response to McCarthy, G.M. Tucker, however, argues that "the OT covenant did not arise in the sphere of Israelite life which required and produced contracts."

Instead of a contractual agreement, both the OT covenants and the suzerain-vassal treaty are formulated upon the essential element of oath. "The covenant between Yahweh and Israel . . . is described as an oath, and the conclusion of that covenant as swearing."

The parallel between covenant and oath is expressly set forth in Deuteronomy 29:12, ". . . a covenant the Lord is making with you this day and sealing with an oath." Likewise, the suzerain-vassal treaty included an oath section calling upon the gods as witnesses. For example, "Let these [gods] be witnesses to this treaty and to the oaths."

In contrast to this covenant-oath formulation, contract is not premised upon oath, but merely upon mutual assent to a promise – a meeting of the minds supported by consideration. For example, Genesis 18 reflects the contract concepts of promise of performance or promise of conveyance in Abraham’s purchase of the field of Ephron the Hittite.

Although the subject matter of this contractual transaction is real property, the structure and form of the agreement recorded in Genesis 18 parallels the pattern of typical Akkadian and Old-Babylonian sale contracts.  Both the Biblical example and the contract formulations of these ancient cultures demonstrate that the activating principle of contract was mutual agreement rather than oath.

In light of the distinction between covenant-oath and contract-agreement, we may conclude that the suzerain-vassal treaty model for the covenants is not founded upon concepts of contract law. As Tucker further observed, "The covenant, solemnized by a conditional self-curse, did not require witnesses or the apparatus of the court. The contract, on the other hand, was not a sworn statement, but a document – or an oral agreement – witnessed by outside parties."

Instead of an agreement imposing duties of future performance, both the Old Testament covenants and the treaty model constitute a pledge by the greater to the lesser granting the lesser rights. Thus, having distinguished treaty model for covenant from contract principles, we must look to real property law in order to find a more consistent legal framework in which to understand the Old Testament covenants. The application of property law concepts becomes even more evident as we turn our consideration from the suzerain-vassal treaty to the royal land grant model.

Royal Land Grant

The royal land grant model is principally based upon the Babylonian kudurru documents. Weinfeld noted the contrasts between the grant and treaty models, stating: While the "treaty" constitutes an obligation of the vassal to his master, the suzerain, the "grant" constitutes an obligation of the master to his servant. In the "grant" the curse is directed towards the one who will violate the rights of the king’s vassal, while in the treaty the curse is directed towards the vassal who will violate the rights of the king. In other words, the "grant" serves mainly to protect the rights of the servant while the treaty comes to protect the rights of the master. What is more, while the grant is a reward for loyalty and good deeds already performed, the treaty is an inducement for future loyalty.

With this distinction in mind, both McCarthy and Weinfeld concluded that the Sinai covenant is modeled upon the treaty and that both the Abrahamic covenant of Genesis 15 and the Davidic covenant of 2 Samuel 7 are formulated according to the grant model.

But, just as McCarthy had failed to distinguish between treaty and contract, Weinfeld fails to distinguish between "grant" and "promise" when he asserts that "In a . . . grant we find a similarity even in formulating the commitment to keep the promise to the descendants of the loyal servants." (emphasis in the original). Rather, the commitment in the grant formulation is better expressed as a commitment to observe faithfully and honor the rights conveyed by the grantor to the grantee and his descendants. Hence, the Prophet Micah proclaimed, "You will be true (`emeth) to Jacob, and show mercy to Abraham, as you pledged an oath to our fathers in days long ago."

In spite of his technical, legal imprecision, as noted above, Weinfeld correctly states that "the legal formulae expressing the gift of land to Abraham are identical with the legal formulae of conveyance of property in the ancient Near East. Especially instructive in this case are the formulations of conveyance in perpetuity." Some scholars have suggested that the royal land grant "may be conceived as reflecting a feudal privilege, much like enfeoffment. . . or else it presupposes a system in which the entire land is considered the king’s property."

While evidence for both conceptions of grant is present in the ancient legal documents, the ambiguity may have been intended in order to accommodate "both early feudal notions of the relationship between Yahweh and Israel and parallels to notions of ancient Near Eastern property law that had taken hold in Judah."

Following the model of the kudurru documents and the principles of Babylonian law, the royal grant provides the basis upon which the grantee, Israel, is authorized to take possession of the "given" territory once title (i.e. the right of ownership) has been conveyed by Yahweh as king.

Unlike a contract for the sale and purchase of real property, as illustrated by Abraham’s transaction with Ephron the Hittite in Genesis 18 and discussed above, "the kudurru was a legal document recording the exchange of property. A duplicate tablet was usually made that also registered the legal change of ownership. "This tablet was the official title-deed for the new property owner . . . . [T]he kudurru could have been used as legal evidence proving ownership if the tablet was lost or broken. The kudurru-stone also served to place the newly acquired property and attendant rights (e.g. tax or corvee exemptions) under divine sanction and protection by means of the concluding curse formulae in the inscription. So the kudurru confirmed the recipient’s legal title to the land and protected it from encroachment by calling upon the gods as witnesses and invoking their powers of judgment against any transgressor of the grant."

Applying these concepts of ancient property law to the OT covenants of God with Abraham and David, we may conclude that these covenants conveyed title, possessory and use rights to the grantees and their descendants in perpetuity. These rights were not conditioned upon future performance by the grantees or their descendants. Rather, the entitlement to the benefits was dependent upon the intention and capacity of the grantor. Had contract notions underpinned these covenants then enjoyment of the promised benefits may have been limited to either fulfillment of conditions precedent or avoidance of conditions subsequent by the promisees. A condition precedent is an action that must be undertaken by the promisee before the obligation of the promisor to perform arises. On the other hand, a condition subsequent is the occurrence of a proscribed action by the promisee that releases the obligation of the promisor to perform. Such conditions are not present in property conveyances of title, possessory and use rights in perpetuity.

Finally, although reference to promise in the Abrahamic and Davidic covenants may suggest contract law principles, both of these Old Testament covenants are better understood by analogy to the kudurru grants of property rights. The distinct formulation of these covenants in contrast to the Sinai covenant demonstrates that the royal land grant is the more appropriate model. Unlike the treaty, the royal grant is principally a transfer of real property. Therefore, there is little support for construing either the covenant of Genesis 15 or the covenant of 2 Samuel 7 in terms of contractual obligations arising out of promises and conditions upon performance of those promises. Rather both of these Old Testament covenants are expressed in terms of a conveyance of rights that are granted to the recipients as a consequence of the intention and capacity of the grantor.

Conclusion

The significance of understanding the Old Testament covenants in terms of real property law concepts should not be lightly regarded. Whether modeled after the suzerain-vassal treaty or the royal land grant, the covenants do not merely express promises of future performance. Instead, the covenants are grants by God to his people of rights that provide a basis for both their relationship with God and their fellowman. Rights are not, in the first place, intrinsic. Rather, they are an endowment by the greater to the lesser. Conveyances of property rights, in particular, depend wholly upon the validity and enforceability of the interests of the grantor. The intention and capacity of the grantor determines the transfer of rights to the grantee. In the case of the Old Testament covenants, God is the grantor. His sovereign purpose is the intention that activates the covenant grant. His sovereign reign over all creation constitutes the capacity that enables the covenant grant. Therefore, the rights conveyed by the covenant grant are indefeasible.

Endnotes

1. Theological Dictionary of the Old Testament, vol. 2, pp. 266-269, 270-271.

2. Restatement (Second) of Contracts, Section 1.

3. Blackstone, Commentaries on the Laws of England, Oxford, 1698, Book II, Chapter 4, p. 57.

4. G.M. Tucker, "Covenant Forms and Contract Forms," VT 15 (1965), 487.

5. G.E. Mendenhall, "Covenant Forms in Israelite Tradition," BA 17 (1954), 50-76.

6. K.A. Kitchen, Ancient Orient and Old Testament, Inter-Varsity, 1966, p. 91.

7. Tucker, VT 15 (1965), 487, (citing D.J. McCarthy, "Treaty and Covenant," AB 21 (1963), 4).

8. Tucker, p. 488.

9. Tucker, pp. 487-490.

10. Tucker, p. 488.

11. Tucker, p. 490 (citing Goetze, ANET, p. 205).

12. Tucker, p. 500.

13. Tucker, pp. 487-499.

14. Tucker, pp. 500-501.

15. Weinfeld, "The Covenant of Grant in the Old Testament and Ancient Near East," JAOS 90.2 (1970), 185.

16. Weinfeld, JAOS 90.2 (1970), 199; D.J. McCarthy, "Covenant in the Old Testament," CBQ 27 (1965), 237-238.

17. Weinfeld, "Covenant Terminology," JAOS 93.2 (1973), 194.

18. Micah 7:20 (NIV)

19. Weinfeld, JAOS 90.2 (1970), 199.

20. TDOT, vol. 6, p. 385.

21. TDOT, vol. 6, p. 385.

22. A.E. Hill, "The Ebal Ceremony as Hebrew Land Grant?" JETS 31 (1988), 402.

23. Hill, JETS 31 (1988), 402.

24. Hill, JETS 31 (1988), 402.

25. Hill, JETS 31 (1988), 402.

Works Cited

W. Blackstone. Commentaries on the Laws of England, Oxford, 1698.

A.E. Hill. "The Ebal Ceremony as Hebrew Land Grant?" JETS 31:4 (1988), 399-406.

K.A. Kitchen. Ancient Orient and Old Testament, Inter-Varsity, 1966.

D.J. McCarthy. "Covenant in the Old Testament,"bCBQb27 (1965), 217-240.

G.E. Mendenhall. "Covenant Forms in Israelite Tradition," BA 17 (1956), 50-76.

Restatement (Second) of Contracts. American Law Institutes.

Theological Dictionary of the Old Testament.

G.M. Tucker. "Covenant Forms and Contract Forms," VT 15 (1965), 487-503.

M. Weinfeld, "The Covenant of Grant in the Old Testament and in the Ancient Near East," JAOS 90.2 (1970), 184-203.

M. Weinfeld, "Covenant Terminology," JAOS 93.2 (1973), 182-196.

[This paper was written during my studies at Covenant Seminary for a Covenant Theology class]

When Confucius Greets Socrates: Teaching American Law in an Asian University

Last week, I presented this paper at the East Asia Law & Society Conference in Shanghai.

With grateful appreciation to Park Dam, LLB, summa cum laude, Handong University, 2013, for her excellent research and editorial assistance.

Introduction

            Nearly ten years ago I was presenting a paper in the United States at an academic symposium much like the one at which we are gathered today.  I was addressing a group of legal scholars on the subject of recent US Supreme Court decisions in cases involving capital punishment. I was not aware, however, that in my audience were two professors from the faculty of Handong University located in Korea.  After my talk, those Korean professors introduced themselves and invited me to their university’s recently established graduate law school to serve as a visiting professor for a short term teaching U.S. Antitrust law the following summer.  I accepted their invitation and traveled to East Asia for the first time in July, 2004.  That experience led to my subsequent return to Handong in the fall of 2009 and my eventual appointment to the university’s faculty of law where I have since then been teaching in their U.S. and International Law program of study.  This spring term marks my seventh semester teaching American law in an Asian university.

            Through my teaching experiences over this period of time, I have encountered much of what Professor Jasper Kim of Ehwa University described in his article entitled: “Socrates vs. Confucius: An Analysis of South Korea’s Implementation of the American Law School Model” published in the Asian-Pacific Law & Policy Journal in 2009.  There, Professor Kim addressed the question:  “Socrates vs. Confucius: clash or co-existence?” (323).  His inquiry was focused upon South Korea’s Graduate Law School Act of 2007 by which Korea has transitioned from an undergraduate legal education system to a program of study modeled along the lines of the three-year graduate, professional law school program in the United States (323).

            Professor Kim identified both cultural constraints and language barriers to the successful co-existence of a Socratic-styled Western legal educational approach within the Confucian context in which Korean legal education, both substantively and methodologically, is located.  With respect to cultural constraints, Prof. Kim observed:

Korean culture is predominantly predicated on social inequality while American culture is predicated on equality, and accordingly the American law school system is largely predicated on the use of the Socratic method [sic] rather than the South Korean Confucian-based top-down lecture method. Thus, a fundamental mismatch may exist in the short-run when applying the American law school model to the Korean case (349).

Second, with regard to language barriers, Prof. Kim noted that the English language embodies the fundamental notion of equality and thus it is “relatively non-hierarchical and flat” when contrasted with the Korean language (349).  As a result, he predicted that there would be more clash and less peaceful co-existence between Socrates and Confucius at least in the first stages of Korea’s implementation of American model of legal education.

            While readily acknowledging the accuracy of most of Prof. Kim’s analysis as well as the validity of nearly all his conclusions, I come today to the question of Confucius’ encounter with Socrates in the arena of legal education both from a different perspective and with a distinct task.  Rather than expand upon an evaluation of attempts to teach Asian Law through a Western educational model, I will attempt instead to assess the experiences of a Westerner teaching American law in an Asian university.  Based upon my analysis, I will suggest in this paper that Socrates may indeed not only co-exist with Confucius, but also, that their relationship has the potential to produce a mutually thriving learning environment.  This may occur when Confucius greets Socrates and together they learn from one another how better to relate to their students, to improve their pedagogy and to envision and achieve their learning objectives.

Professor – Student Relationship

            The first way in which Confucius may greet Socrates is in the understanding of the relationship between professor and students.  For the purposes of this paper, I will focus upon just two aspects: attitude and engagement. Both the Confucian hierarchical and the Socratic equalitarian character of this relationship are founded upon and fostered by an attitude of respect.   In the Asian context, it is an immediate, one might say innate, respect owed to the professor by the students due to the professor’s status as a teacher.  In contrast, respect in a Western law school setting is initiated by the professor’s addressing his or her students by their surnames.  This is exemplified in the popular film “The Paper Chase.”  The opening scene depicts the first day of class for first year students at Harvard Law School.  Professor Kingsfield calls upon Mr. Hart, not James or even James Hart, but Mr. Hart, to recite the facts of the first case.        American law students have entered the professional arena by earning admission to law school and professional courtesy is practiced by the law professor’s attitude of respect for his students.  I have found that addressing my law students at Handong by their family names – Ms. Park, Mr. Han – fosters an authenticity of respect that is sometimes lacking when the respect is merely culturally conditioned.

            Furthermore, mutuality of respect between professor and students engenders a greater openness to engagement by the students in the subject matter of the day’s class.  Student engagement emerges beyond respectful, passive listening and vigorous note-taking, characteristic of the Confucian learning tradition, to a more active willingness to pose questions, not only privately to the professor after the class, but even publicly during the class itself. In order to draw students into this more active engagement, I have found that it was necessary for me to reiterate regularly both my willingness to be interrupted by questions and my approval of students who ask questions during class as those who are indeed listening carefully and wanting to know and understand the subject matter more thoroughly.

Teaching Methodology

            An integrated Confucian-Socratesian attitude of respect in the relationship between professor and students flows naturally into the forming of an integrated pedagogy.  Both Confucian and Socratesian teaching methodologies are in their essential form founded upon the pondering of a text through the aid of guided inquiry.  The Socratic Method, that is virtually synonymous with Western legal education, however, turns the approach away from the professor’s thoughts on the case under consideration, to the students’ thinking about the facts, issues, rules and rationales of the case.  Their thinking is guided by the law professor’s queries.  A student’s response to the professor’s opening question will lead to another question from the professor, the reply to which will provide the basis for yet another question, and so goes the interaction within the Socratic classroom.  For a further elucidation of this correspondence, I recommend Warwick University Professor Abdul Paliwala’s article, Socrates and Confucius: A Long History of Information Technology in Legal Education published in 2010.

The professor seeks to hone the students’ thinking skills more than he or she attempts to convey substantive knowledge.  Once the students’ initial hesitancy to respond is overcome by the professor’s openness to their efforts and once the students’ reluctance to speak up due to a lack of confidence in his or her language skills is relieved by the professor’s acceptance of their attempts, the Socratic Method may be effectively used to heighten the Asian law students’ active engagement in the learning endeavor. Indeed, the Confucian methodology that seeks to evoke reflection upon the text may be enhanced as the professor incorporates the Socratesian pedagogy by framing inquiries with a more artful aim and in more inviting tones.  In this way, Confucius greets and invites Socrates into the seowon, thus moving toward a merger of the Eastern and Western legal academy.

Learning Outcomes

            An integrated Confucian-Socratesian characterization of the professor-student relationship founded upon respect, along with a similarly integrated pedagogy encouraging thoughtful engagement of the legal text through guided inquiry, culminates in more holistic learning outcomes.  The transformation of legal educational objectives that was engendered by the adoption of the Socratic-case study approach at the “high citadel” of Harvard Law School at the turn of the Twentieth Century marked the move from merely “learning the law” to the ultimate goal of producing graduates who are “thinking like a lawyer.”  This momentous shift in American legal education was thoroughly analyzed by Michigan Law Professor Joel Seligman in his 1978 book, The High Citadel. 

Sharpening legal practitioners’ critical thinking skills and argumentative tactics did not, however, fully form a professional with developed sense of responsibility and ethics.  As a result, most law schools in America included in their curriculum required courses in professional responsibility and humanities.  During my law school days at Saint Louis University, I met the humanities requirement by taking a seminar examining the inter-relationship of law and religion.  Some law schools in the States, most notably Yale Law School, went so far as to develop an entire course on the “formation of the lawyer” and also offered a dual-degree program in cooperation with the university’s Divinity School that enabled the student to earn both a Juris Doctorate and a Masters of Divinity degree during five years of study.

What Western, Socratic legal education realized as a need was, in fact, an outcome that the Confucian educational tradition always embodied – the formation of a whole person.  These “learning virtues” of the East were recently emphasized in the February 28, 2013 New York Times article by David Brooks.  There he reviewed the work of Professor Jin Li in her book Cultural Foundations of Education: East and West.   Prof. Li’s study concluded, among other things, that:

Westerners tend to define learning cognitively while Asians tend to define it morally.  Westerners tend to see learning as something people do in order to understand and master the external world.  Asians tend to see learning as an arduous process they undertake in order to cultivate virtues inside the self.

Here again, the integration achieved by Confucius welcoming Socrates, and Socrates, in turn, appreciating and learning from Confucius yields both a fuller and deeper commitment to educational outcomes that aim, not only, at finely-honed analytical skills and argumentative strategies, but also a developed sense of professional responsibility and ethical alertness that enables the law school graduate both to think like a lawyer and to act like attorney.  The outcomes of individual courses of study as well as the entire legal education endeavor will be envisioned in terms of forming a whole person capable of ably engaging the external demands and challenges of the legal profession with ethical integrity.

 Conclusion

When Confucius greets Socrates and both value and learn from one another, then they may grow into better relationships with their students based upon mutual respect.  They may improve their pedagogy by engaging their students in reflection upon the legal text through open, guided inquiries that shape the students’ approach to thinking about the law and finally, Confucius and Socrates may help to envision and achieve learning outcomes that more fully form competent and responsible legal professionals.  This integration of the Confucian and Socratesian approaches has the potential to foster a thriving legal-learning environment. I have found this to be the case in my experience of teaching American law in an Asian university.

Wholly Following ~ Living a Singular Life (Part 3)

We have discovered in previous posts in this series that a life devoted to following Christ wholly may be envisioned and experienced as a pursuit of the three-fold path of living a submitted, singular and sacrificed life.  In the most recent posts, we began to ponder the meaning of living a singular life.  How are we to go about living this kind of life?  The answer will always be found in Christ himself.  He forms singularity in our life in much the same way as we are formed into followers who live submitted lives – through the shaping of an attitude of heart, the enhancement of an awareness of soul and the development of a practice of life.

As an integral part of the continuing work of formation, God cultivates love as the attitude of heart within each of his followers that motivates the singular life.  When Jesus was asked which of the commandments was the greatest, he replied, “The most important is, ‘Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one.  And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’  The second is this: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no other commandment greater than these” (Mark 12:29-31).  Every aspect of our being is captivated and wholly devoted to God through love.

The greatest commandment, the most important one for Christ’s followers to obey every day in each step along our way is: love God with all that you are, through all that you have, by all that you do, in all that you say, with every thought that you think!  But, how do we experience this all-encompassing and unifying love of God?  How do I know whether I truly love God with my entire being?  John Maxwell, the author of numerous books on leadership, has said that in every 24-hour period of time, we demonstrate whom or what we truly love. The answer begins to emerge as we honestly examine ourselves by asking three questions.  In the past 24-hours, whom or what did I think about? Whom or what did I listen to? And, whom or what did you spend time with?  The person or thing you think about, listen to and spend time with most in each 24-hours of your life is the one you truly love.

As God forms love within us, we will begin to think about Him more and more.  Throughout the day as we encounter people, we will be prompted to think about how God loves them and how Christ gave his life to forgive them. We will begin to listen more and more to God speak to us through his Word as we hear it mentioned, taught or preached.  Thoughts of God’s Word will come to our mind through conversations with others and through both challenging and uplifting life experiences.  Our spiritual ears will become more and more attentive to God.  We will have a greater sense of living in his presence, of being with him always.  We will begin to see our relationships with other as existing in and through Christ.

In these ways we experience, by God’s grace, his work in shaping the disposition of love within our heart so that love for God pervades every dimension of our life.  By faith we pray each day for God to continue this work within us.  As he does, we are enabled to love God with all our heart, all our soul, all our strength and all our mind.  Our love for Christ begins to be the singular thread that runs throughout each thought, word and activity of our day.  We begin to sense a connectedness throughout every facet of our life.  God’s love becomes the motivating force for each moment.

In addition to shaping love as the attitude motivating our living a singular life, God is also at work enhancing within our souls an awareness of the presence of Christ in every moment of our life experiences.  When Jesus was just about to return to his Father, he issued the Great Commission to his disciples (Matthew 28:19-20).  His words are often recalled to challenge believers with the responsibility to evangelize the whole world, and this is indeed both the purpose and scope of Christ’s commission.  But there is one part of the Great Commission that is frequently overlooked.  It is found in the last phrase.  There Jesus promises us that his presence will be with us now and throughout the end of this present age.