Issuu

VOLUME 25 NUMBER 2

INTÉGRITÉ FALL 2026 A Fine Arts Issue

PUBLISHED SEMIANNUALLY BY

MISSOURI BAPTIST UNIVERSITY Saint Louis, Missouri 63141-8698

mobap.edu/about-mbu/publications/integrite/

Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal Editor

John J. Han, Missouri Baptist University

Editorial Review Board

Matthew Bardowell, Missouri Baptist University Todd C. Ream, Indiana Wesleyan University C. Clark Triplett, Missouri Baptist University

Advisory Board

Bob Agee, Oklahoma Baptist University & Union University Craig Albin, Missouri State University-West Plains Jane Beal, University of La Verne Eric Shane Bryan, Missouri University of Science and Technology Andy Chambers, Missouri Baptist University Arlen Dykstra, Missouri Baptist University Darren J. N. Middleton, Baylor University John Zheng, Mississippi Valley State University

Editorial Assistant Susannah Cerutti

Webmaster Joel Lindsey

Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal (ISSN 1547-0474 and 1547-0873) is published each spring and fall by the Center for Faith & Learning and the School of Humanities and Theology at Missouri Baptist University. Published both online at https://www.mobap.edu/aboutmbu/publications/integrite/ and in print copy, the journal examines historical, philosophical, theological, cultural, and pedagogical issues related to the integration of Christian faith and higher learning. All submissions are critically reviewed for content and substance by the editor and the editorial review board; in some cases, scholars in specific fields are invited to evaluate manuscripts. The opinions expressed by individual writers in this journal are not necessarily endorsed by the editor, editorial board, or Missouri Baptist University. SUBMISSIONS: Submissions of scholarly articles, short essays, book reviews, and poems are welcome. Send your work and your 100-125-word author bio as e-mail attachments (Microsoft Word format) to the editor, John J. Han, at john.han@mobap.edu. We accept submissions all year round. For detailed submission guidelines, see the last two pages of this journal. SUBSCRIPTIONS & BOOKS FOR REVIEW: Intégrité subscriptions, renewals, address changes, and books for review should be mailed to John J. Han, Editor of Intégrité, Missouri Baptist University, One College Park Dr., St. Louis, Missouri 63141. Phone: (314) 392-2311. Subscription rates: Individuals $10 per year; institutions $20 per year. INDEXING: Intégrité is listed in the Southern Baptist Periodical Index and the Christian Periodical Index. Volume 25, Number 2, Fall 2026 © 2026 Missouri Baptist University. All rights reserved.

Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal Volume 25 Number 2 Fall 2026 A Fine Arts Issue CONTENTS POETRY 3

Two poems Jane Blanchard

Two poems Philip C. Kolin

“Faith” and other poems John Zheng

“A Dove Came Down” and other poems Jane Beal

“A Time for Turned Tables” and other poems Todd Sukany

Anima Splendida (The Radiant Soul): A Spiritual Diptych Matthew Ramsey

Two lanterne poems Mercedes C. Parker

“Driving to school” (a cherita poem) Mollie Monje

PROSE 23

[Review Article] Looking at Christian Education from Above and Below: Comparing and Contrasting the Approaches of Two Recent Works on the Teaching and Learning Process C. Clark Triplett

[Book Review] Rob Peters, The Overseer: The Missing Jewel in the Crown of Glory (2023) Aaron S. Halstead

[Book Review] Bryan C. Loritts, The Offensive Church: Breaking the Cycle of Ethnic Disunity (2023) Aaron S. Halstead

[Book Review] Grace Hamman, Ask of Old Paths: Medieval Virtues and Vices for a Whole and Holy Life (2025) Julie Ooms

[Book Review] Graham James McAleer, Tolkien, Philosopher of War (2024) Matthew Bardowell

[Book Review] Carl R. Trueman, Crisis of Confidence: Reclaiming the Historic Faith in a Culture Consumed with Individualism and Identity (2024) C. Clark Triplett

[Short Story] “Record of the Animal Conference” (1908) An Guk-seon

[Photo Essay] England: A Journey through Christian Heritage John J. Han

106 110

NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS SUBMISSION GUIDELINES

Jane Blanchard 3 Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal Vol. 26, No. 2 (Fall 2026): 3-22

POETRY Two Poems Jane Blanchard In the Chapel Displaying The Ghent Altarpiece 5 May 2025 We are allowed to stand or sit, then stare At what our lecturer has just declared The most exquisite artwork anywhere. Since this same woman more than once has shared A lack of faith in Christianity, I marvel that these sacred panels should Appeal to someone who admittedly Is worshipful of only paint on wood. Plus, several are not even here today, Mere temporary replicas in place, With restorations as yet underway For future gawkers in this awkward space. Sophie, anti-American, pro-Dutch, Eventually dismisses us from such.

4 Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal Messiah at St. Martin-in-the-Fields in London, 25 November 2025 Through a set of open doors, Ticket-holders move inside, Yet wherever they are from Soon is hard for some to hide, For a bold American Chats up those assigned to sit Far too near him on a pew In a nave now candle-lit. With a program in my hands, I choose not to look his way, Though I have to overhear All the loudmouth has to say, Till majestic music starts And I am reminded to Focus on the One above Whose resounding words ring true.

Philip C. Kolin 5

Two Poems Philip C. Kolin Auntie L She no longer dwells in flesh. Twenty-five years ago, she left Resurrection Cemetery for eternity. But her nephew recalls The winter Sunday morning walks To church telling him that his breath Escaping into the air reminded her Of angels gathering for the service. She taught him virtues like meekness-Not pushing forward his ego To the front of a conversation but Savoring others' views instead. And he still reads her Bible with The family genealogy on thin paper And how the ink in other names faded But not hers. He treasured the wall scroll She made with Psalm 91 on it And believes it kept his house Safe from hunger and COVID. He knew she carried heaven in her heart.

Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal

Silence Silence is not still. It is filled with voices Ready to be heard Though far away Or spoken hours ago. It calls us to an accounting Of the power of our words And recalls the faces and scenes In photographs our memory Has taken. It can be the language Of prayers and promises; A petition you want Only God to hear.

John Zheng 7

“Faith” and Other Poems John Zheng Faith is cultivation of heart and soul to be all for the love of God. Like fields to be tilled, furrowed, seeded, and weeded with patient labor, it takes lifetime toil to yield a beautiful crop for a truthful smile. To gain the harvest of mindfulness of the Lord, plant faith as a seed inside a pure heart and tend to it with a goal never to give up.

Reading Paradise Lost Adam and Eve became one through a fruit, while we eat fruit, never wondering how to live in harmony on Earth. Had they refused to take that enticing bite, they would still play in paradise— with no dreams, no Earth, no hell, no us.

Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal

Reading Dante’s Inferno Every human—good or bad, rich or poor, powerful or powerless—wishes for heaven. No one wants to fall into the lake of fire, separated from the presence of God, or into the deep ice trap of the inferno, frozen inside the nine concentric circles. Yet, wasn’t our dear Earth already hell when Adam and Eve were banished here? If not, why do wars, drugs, famine and poverty persist like endless nightmares haunting us? Ascending to the promised land is our final wish. To some, it appears to be a beautiful subjunctive. When it comes true at our deathbeds, our wish turns into holy assurance, rising like a pure photon.

Healing God rays harp through the dense gray clouds, plucking chords of golden serenity— the melody of “Amazing Grace” swinging around to calm restless souls.

John Zheng 9 Still Existence The long-abandoned wooden church still stands in the center of the haunted hamlet— a stage where the moon frequents to spin alone, and the worn floor squeaks under her silver slippers.

Eternal Sound The church bells chime through the blue sky delivering a message of worship to infinity…

10 Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal

“A Dove Came Down” and Other Poems Jane Beal A Dove Came Down A dove came down from heaven and settled in my cupped, outstretched hands. She brought her wings forward, to her white breast, and opened it, revealing her tiny, red heart. She gave her heart to me. With delicate fingers, I took it. Her heart was a little book! I turned the fragile pages until I felt one was marked with a notch. I opened the book and read: See, it is I who create the blacksmith who fans the coals into flame, and forges a weapon fit for its work. Then the dove took flight! The light of the sun struck her white wings, and a rainbow sprang from her back, arching down from the sky to me, and I was transformed by the Glory.

Jane Beal 11 beyond 1 lying in bed in the afternoon, I look out beyond my bedroom window – six or seven American Robins swoop into the branches of a California live oak then vanish completely, deep in clusters of sharp, dark leaves. 2 A cloud passes over the sun, and the light through the window dims: the wind blows away the cloud, and the light returns. 3 I remember cycling through the park yesterday and seeing on the green grass, a patch of white flowers with yellow hearts: the veil of spring fallen over the world.

12 Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal On a Ferris Wheel in Santiago de Compostela, Spain, on the Feast of the Ascension La Noria! Ferris wheel, bright, lit up with light, sixty meters high, turning toward the sky on the feast of the Ascension pulling me, Monica, y Fernando into angel-white cloud, proud, suspending us over the city of Santiago over the higher spire of the Cathedral, the pinprick pilgrims dotting the plaza, the carnival noise, the dancing girls and boys the cotton-candy, pink, wink, Jesus!, wow, he’s here now, and we’re celebrating him – how? By rising up like he rose, our feet dangling down, our house-keys jangling out sound for the pure joy of being free, whee!, in this marvelous, technological century! For we are ascending into Glory, gloria!, laughing praise and shrieking with delight our song of pure joy!

Jane Beal 13 Sapphire a wedding song for my sister, Alice My sister is like a sapphire dazzling in blue, radiant with the inner light of joy: how beautifully she stands on her wedding day! A veil over her hair, tulips in her hands, remembering our brother Abraham, who passed away during the pandemic, and remembering our grandmother and grandfather and the more than fifty years they were married, singing songs of God’s faithfulness, kindness, and love, laughing (because her joy is mixed with sorrow) in the middle of her vows, and dancing to the song Dela: “oh, yes, I’ve been waiting for you all my life, hoping for a miracle!” Her simple question has found an answer: praise be, praise be! Let the Glory fall all over you, my beautiful, sweet sister, and bring divine healing: I love you forever. Let us all be complete, and be satisfied, in the Presence of the One We Love! For his blessing is never-ending, and Heaven is rejoicing over us: the light of the stars is streaming down upon the celebration of your love forever.

14 Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal

“A Time for Turned Tables” and Other Poems Todd Sukany A Time for Turned Tables Long ago people gathered in a sacred place. Some had lost their way, like Butch, a money changer from Brooklyn. Down on his luck since she left, Butch joined a busy Temple procession. Once inside, his eyes fell on the magnificent fountain, brilliant visual displays, familiar melody, as he reached for a fresh mug of latte. He felt warm and repurposed, reborn one might say. He stayed long enough to hear a message, “Ten Ways to Live a Better Life (Part XI),” before heading home to build his own table and signage, Butch’s Bucks. His next visit would be pure prosperity.

Todd Sukany 15 One Day in the Living Room after Reading “Who but a child or a fool . . .” (Isaiah 2:4) The water-heater cardboard gets laid flat by a couple incisions. Mountains, trees, a stream, a well-marked road all appear under the brush strokes of my seven-year-old grandson. Soon helicopters, press-together plastic blocks form into tanks, jets, as infantry hurl bombs and weaponry at one another. I ask him who’s winning. The good guys. The good guys.

The Best Reason for Singing in Another Language A singer on Resurrection Sunday slides “Ave Maria” into a microphone, past the ears, and makes a deposit in my soul. I understand only the melody and that brief mention of Jesus. Later, I find out that she hailed a mother and my eventual death. Another singer, at an integrated Fine Arts College program, growls German love songs. Golden sequins on her dress blind me as she inhales to support the chorus. She convinces me that love is difficult and that I can love her only for love, not her beauty, youth, or treasures. If I had no access to the translation, I’d sit immersed in melody and drive home in confidence.

16 Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal balance of prayer we share prayers via text these days. it is nice to remember to capitalize pronouns and important parts like in the days of writing. today, we lit up facebook on your behalf. to us, you were not responding quickly enough. your blood pressure was low and the pain at your five incisions was too high. we believe He allowed one more saint’s typing to rock you to sleep and bring you peace.

Members of First Church Laodicea We were children. Children. Running without looking. Swinging high until the slack in the chains snapped our spines. Riding bikes nohanded . . . downhill. And then we met The Pool. So vast. Deep. Dread and fear. Respect. Head-smacked and all in. Shocking at first, then lukewarm.

Matthew Ramsey 17

Anima Splendida (The Radiant Soul): A Spiritual Diptych Matthew Ramsey I. Vallis Harenae (The Valley of Grit) They look past the frame of my face, treating my eyes like windows to a vacant house. Better, perhaps, to let the glass stay dark. Instead, I sit in the quiet ache of want, reaching for a language I was never taught to speak. Come down into this valley of grit, where dust chokes the throat and gravel cuts the knees. Watch hands that offer nothing but pocket lint and ash, the superficial smiles, the love demanding a receipt. I hear the dry scraping of their synthetic wool, the cold drafts rattling the frosted glass. I stand misplaced in the wrong room, shrouded in my own unworthiness. Nearby, they crowd the oak pews, trading glances, rehearsing the mechanics of devotion. They miss the clock bleeding to its final breath, where the chance to mend snaps like a dry winter branch. Cold reality stares me down. I am hunted by time, tracked as a winter wolf stalks its prey. Heavy linens and the scaffolding of clay pin me entirely to the freezing earth. The air tastes of rust and forgotten names. The lone comfort left to find is a promise carved thousands of years ago, driven deep into the grain of a cross. The torture of this delay grinds the bone. When, my Master? When will I feel the warmth of your embrace?

18 Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal The days march onward, absolute and blind, locking my life in autumn's tightening fist. My fleeting youth is left behind, ensnared by hours I cannot withstand. Yet though the stalking predator will chase, and grind this brittle bone to dust, my marrow is fastened to a place beyond the reach of shadow, decay, and rust. A sudden current cuts the heavy silt— no flawless posture asked, no debt, no guilt; He simply pulls me upward from the dust. I thirst for a stillness that silences the room. I pant for the endless, wild stream— a torrential, rushing river of grace that thunders through the canyon of my ribs, flooding the valley of grit, washing the ash from my hands, where time fractures and drowns. I stake my hope on the caller of the current— the wild compass of my rescue, the hands that drove the iron into the wood, holding my splintered soul together, time and again. II. Canticum Ferri et Granorum (The Song of Iron and Grain) Thoughts naked as an open blade, unhoused and sharp. The years rust away like iron spikes driven deep into old timber. The blood stays wet, the soul raw, bearing a grief whose genesis the mind has long surrendered. The box became my home, discomfort the spouse I learned to crave. If only light could breach this permafrost that bites down as the shackles tighten, sealing the dark.

Matthew Ramsey 19 I lay the jagged edge at His feet. He does not flinch at the steel; instead, He catches the rim in bare palms and grinds the metal into ash. He disarms the winter in my chest, breathing heat into the frozen soot. The embers smoke between us, a long silence where the wildness breaks and the old walls give way to the hands. The wounds handed to the carpenter are mended, beam by beam, and returned to me in kindness. Praise now runs through the marrow, a wild meter keeping time with the rhythm of things remade. I burn for fierce connections: the high canopy and the rooting dirt. He refines me, a flame parsing the chaff. I am the Father’s, and the Father is mine: a quiet knot holding fast in the grain, an echo wide as Aeternum. Notes • • • • • • • • • •

“Treating my eyes like windows to a vacant house”: cf. Matthew 12:44; Psalm 31:12. “Reaching for a language I was never taught to speak”: cf. Romans 8:26; Psalm 42:1–2. “Dust chokes the throat and gravel cuts the knees”: cf. Psalm 23:4; Psalm 102:9. “The superficial smiles, the love demanding a receipt”: cf. Isaiah 29:13; Jeremiah 6:14. “The dry scraping of their synthetic wool”: cf. Matthew 23:27–28. “Shrouded in my own unworthiness”: cf. Psalm 73:16–17; Luke 5:8. “Nearby, they crowd the oak pews, trading glances, rehearsing the mechanics of devotion”: cf. Amos 5:21–24; Isaiah 1:11–14. “Where the chance to mend snaps like a dry winter branch”: cf. John 15:6; Psalm 90:5–6. “Tracked as a winter wolf stalks its prey”: cf. Psalm 90:9–10; Job 10:16. “Pin me entirely to the freezing earth”: cf. Genesis 3:19; Job 4:19; Psalm 44:25.

20 Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

“Driven deep into the grain of a cross”: cf. Galatians 3:13; 1 Peter 2:24. “When will I feel the warmth of your embrace?”: cf. Psalm 13:1–2; Psalm 6:2–3; Revelation 6:10. “Ensnared by hours I cannot withstand”: cf. Psalm 39:4–5; Job 14:1–2. “Beyond the reach of shadow, decay, and rust”: cf. Matthew 6:19– 20; Luke 12:33; 1 Peter 1:4. “He simply pulls me upward from the dust”: cf. Ephesians 2:8–9; Romans 8:1; Psalm 40:2; Psalm 113:7. “I thirst for a stillness that silences the room”: cf. Psalm 46:10. “Where time fractures and drowns”: cf. John 7:37–38; Revelation 22:1; Isaiah 43:18–19; Romans 5:20. “Holding my splintered soul together, time and again”: cf. Colossians 1:17; John 20:25; Hebrews 13:8. “Bearing a grief whose genesis the mind has long surrendered”: cf. Psalm 31:12; Psalm 142:4. “Discomfort the spouse I learned to crave”: cf. Psalm 88:8; Psalm 102:6–7. “Sealing the dark”: cf. Isaiah 9:2; Psalm 107:10–14. “And grinds the metal into ash”: cf. John 20:27; Isaiah 41:15–16; Psalm 46:9. “Breathing heat into the frozen soot”: cf. Ezekiel 37:9–10; Genesis 2:7. “And the old walls give way to the hands”: cf. Psalm 46:10; Hosea 2:14. “Are mended, beam by beam, and returned to me in kindness”: cf. Mark 6:3; Amos 9:11; Psalm 147:3. “With the rhythm of things remade”: cf. Psalm 63:5; Jeremiah 20:9. “The high canopy and the rooting dirt”: cf. Ephesians 3:17–18; Colossians 2:7. “He refines me, a flame parsing the chaff”: cf. Malachi 3:2–3; Matthew 3:12. “An echo wide as Aeternum”: cf. John 17:21; Colossians 3:3; Ephesians 3:19.

Mercedes C. Parker 21

Two Lanterne Poems Mercedes C. Parker Revelation Chapter One: stars flaming in His hand seven burning white Judas: ear bleeding on the ground while silver coins quake

22 Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal

A Cherita Mollie Monje Driving to school Jamming all the way VeggieTales, worship, and folk songs One hand on the wheel, the other waving in the air I arrive ready for the long day or shake off yesterday

The way to West Plains, Missouri. Photo by John J. Han, 17 September 2026.

C. Clark Triplett 23 Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal Vol. 25, No. 2 (Fall 2026): 23-105

PROSE [Review Article] Looking at Christian Education from Above and Below: Comparing and Contrasting the Approaches of Two Recent Works on the Teaching and Learning Process C. Clark Triplett

Cover image 1: Faithful Learning by Jacob Shatzer. Image reproduced for purposes of review and commentary. Cover image 2: Everyday Christian Teaching by David I. Smith. Image reproduced for purposes of review and commentary.

24 Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal There are many approaches to Christian higher education, shaped not only by the theological traditions of particular faith communities but also by differing understandings of what it means to integrate faith and learning. The difficulty is that integration is never simply a matter of adding theological beliefs to an otherwise established educational enterprise. It raises a more fundamental hermeneutical question: How are two different ways of knowing brought into meaningful relationship without reducing one to the categories of the other? Theology, philosophy, psychology, literature, and the natural sciences each possess their own histories, methods, vocabularies, and assumptions about what constitutes knowledge. Consequently, Christian education must negotiate the boundaries between these disciplines while also asking whether and how those boundaries can be crossed. As pastoral theologian Charles Gerkin observes in relation to theology and psychology for instance, “A hermeneutical theory will therefore come at the task of relating two language worlds, such as those of theology and psychology, to a specific human function, such as that of pastoral counseling, by first acknowledging the discrete boundaries of each world. Languages cannot be easily interchanged. Each comes at the interpretive task with a different set of formative images” (19). The challenge, then, is not merely to place faith alongside learning but to consider how faith might shape the very purposes, practices, and assumptions through which learning takes place. Christian institutions have often responded to this challenge in considerably more practical or compartmentalized ways. Some identify Christian education primarily through practices such as beginning classes with prayer, incorporating devotional exercises, requiring chapel attendance, or encouraging students to participate in mission projects. Such practices may cultivate important dimensions of Christian formation, but they can also leave largely unexamined the intellectual character of the education itself. Other institutions draw a sharper distinction between religious and academic knowledge, treating Bible or religion courses as the primary location of faith while allowing other disciplines to operate according to largely secular assumptions about knowledge and reason. Still others, including institutions with Christian origins such as Harvard and Yale, have gradually moved away from explicitly Christian educational commitments altogether. These differing approaches point to a persistent problem: Christian education cannot be adequately defined simply by what happens around the classroom or by which courses carry the label “Christian.” The more difficult question is whether Christian faith has anything substantive to say about what counts as knowledge, how knowledge is acquired, what education is for, and ultimately what kind of person education seeks to form. Despite the considerable body of scholarship devoted to faith and learning in recent decades, the problem remains unresolved. As Michael S. Hamilton, speaking at a forum of the Council for Christian Colleges and Universities (CCCU), puts it, “the idea of Christian scholarship remains elusive for women and men who teach at

C. Clark Triplett 25 and who lead Christian colleges and universities” (qtd. in CACE Roundtable). The two works considered in this essay approach this problem from different directions. Jacob Shatzer begins, in effect, from “above,” asking what a distinctly Christian vision of learning requires and how theological convictions should shape the educational enterprise as a whole. David I. Smith begins more deliberately from “below,” attending to the ordinary practices of teaching and learning through which Christian convictions become embodied in the classroom. The distinction is not between theory and practice, nor does either author neglect the other. Rather, they illuminate two complementary directions from which Christian education can be understood: the theological vision that gives educational practices their meaning and the everyday practices through which that vision becomes tangible. Christian Education from Above: Jacob Shatzer’s Faithful Learning: A Vision for Theologically Integrated Education Jacob Shatzer, Provost and Vice President for Academic Affairs and Professor of Theological Studies at Union University, begins his book Faithful Learning (B&H Academic, 2023). with theology and asks how Christian doctrine should shape academic disciplines. While it might initially seem that Shatzer assumes faculty already possess a certain depth of theological knowledge, he is actually providing a primer on how theology might be integrated with other disciplines. His starting point is much more nuanced than simply asking how much faculty know. Rather, he wants professors in Christian institutions to understand enough theology to ask how their Christian convictions might affect the way they understand and teach their particular disciplines. Thus, the book serves both as a primer in Christian theology and as a possible model for integrating theology and Christian commitment with other academic disciplines. A problem that seems common in many Christian colleges is that a professor may be personally committed to Christianity while teaching a subject in essentially the same way it is taught at a secular university. Therefore, having Christian professors and students, chapel services, and required Bible courses does not necessarily guarantee that an institution’s learning is genuinely Christian. Shatzer presses a more demanding question: What would it mean for Christian faith to make a genuine difference in the way professors understand their disciplines? His question asks whether Christian education goes much deeper than simply incorporating a few Bible verses or mentioning certain foundational theological concepts. Rather, Christian theology should influence the questions asked about what it means to be human, the purpose and use of particular forms of knowledge, and ultimately the way students understand the vocation of education.

26 Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal The question raised here by Shatzer has to do with his concern that some Christian educators often seem to rely too heavily on a worldview approach to Christian educational philosophy, which tends to focus on information and abstract knowledge that sometimes “encourage(s) uncharitable and dogmatic attitudes toward people and ideas that fail the ‘Christian/non-Christian’ test” (Griffis et al. 12). Throughout the book, Shatzer argues that Christian education is more than the acquisition of abstract knowledge: “Christian education cannot simply focus on information and our minds but must focus on holistic human beings. In short, education is about more than head knowledge” (3). Here, Shatzer refers to the work of James K. A. Smith, Professor of Philosophy at Calvin College, who, in his book Desiring the Kingdom, shifts away from an exclusive emphasis on information and asks the question, “What if we began by appreciating how education not only gets into our heads but also (and more fundamentally) grabs us by the gut—what the New Testament refers to, as kardia, ‘the heart’?” (18). Even though Shatzer begins with theology, his approach to Christian education is not simply based on the transmission of abstract information. As previously indicated, Shatzer begins his work “from above” by organizing the book around the major doctrines of orthodox Christianity. The chapters move through various loci of systematic theology, including God, creation, sin, the person of Christ, and so on. This structure communicates his fundamental conviction that integration begins with theology proper. An instructor cannot integrate Christianity into a specific discipline without first understanding what the Christian faith actually teaches. Thus, Shatzer raises the question: How does the Christian story provide a framework within which an academic discipline can be understood? Before looking at how individual doctrines relate to other disciplines, Shatzer begins with a chapter on “Doing Theology.” He is concerned that there is a common misconception that integration is a specialized process that only theologians know how to do. However, this is a task that faculty members who are not necessarily specialists in theology must understand. Each instructor in a Christian college or university must understand the implications of Christian revelation for his or her area of study. Interestingly, Shatzer uses the Wesleyan Quadrilateral of Scripture, tradition, reason, and experience as his starting point. This theological method did not come directly from John Wesley but from the well-known Methodist theologian Albert Outler’s understanding of how Wesley conceived the task of relating theology to the world in which he lived (Bounds n.p.). It is important to understand how Shatzer uses the Quadrilateral. Its purpose is quite different from that of the classical theological loci discussed in the following chapters. The Quadrilateral is a method for doing theology, while the classical theological loci are structured topics within categorical systematic theology. Here, Shatzer uses the Quadrilateral as a tool or method for relating theology to the content and

C. Clark Triplett 27 language of other disciplines. Theology proper provides the content that is compared with or related to the content of other disciplines. One concerns what Christians believe, while the other concerns how Christians apply or integrate those beliefs. In using the Quadrilateral, Shatzer is not equating tradition, reason, and experience with theology proper, nor is he diminishing the unique importance of Scripture; Scripture remains prima. This tool helps guard against two common mistakes: theological isolation and theological superficiality. Theology should critically engage with the intellectual and scholarly work of the university rather than remain isolated from it. Shatzer subsequently turns from methodology to the classical doctrines of Christian orthodoxy. Each chapter considers a key doctrine and explores how it relates to other academic disciplines. He begins with creation, which provides an important foundation for theological integration. If God created the world, then the world is neither random nor meaningless. Academic disciplines, therefore, become legitimate ways of investigating and understanding creation. This theological starting point gives Christian education a positive intellectual orientation for relating theology to various fields of study. Science can explore the created order, history can investigate human activities and cultures, and literature can imaginatively explore the human experience. The Christian scholar, then, does not have to choose between intellectual rigor and faith. At the same time, a theological starting point establishes certain boundaries. Belief in creation means that God is ultimately the author of all life and knowledge, while human beings are stewards rather than masters of knowledge. Christian education, therefore, should not simply produce knowledgeable people but should cultivate students who understand what knowledge is for and how it ought to be used. The remaining chapters follow the traditional loci of theology, culminating in the doctrine of last things. Christian education also has an eschatological dimension because Christians believe that history is moving toward a particular telos according to God’s purposes. Knowledge, therefore, has a future-oriented dimension. The Christian university is not merely preparing students to succeed economically or socially; it is preparing them to live faithfully within God’s larger purposes for creation. This eschatological perspective gives education a sense of vocation, hope, responsibility, and mission. Education becomes more than preparation for a career; it becomes preparation for a particular way of living faithfully in the world. Shatzer thus provides an important starting point for educators seeking to understand how Christian theology can inform their academic work. Although he emphasizes that Christian education is not simply about the accumulation of information, his approach tends to give greater attention to cognitive knowledge than to practical application, perhaps because the book functions primarily as a primer on the theological dimensions of integration. Consequently, his discussion of the relationship between theology and specific academic disciplines remains fairly general.

28 Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal Rather than providing detailed models for integrating particular disciplines into individual courses, Shatzer offers a theological framework from which Christian faculty can begin developing their own approaches. Readers will therefore finish the book with a clearer understanding of why theology matters to teaching and how theological commitments can shape academic disciplines. However, faculty may not necessarily have a detailed roadmap for teaching a particular course. This limitation makes the work of the next Christian scholar an especially useful conversation partner, since it approaches Christian education from a more practical and pedagogical perspective. Christian Education from Below: David I. Smith’s Everyday Christian Teaching: A Guide to Practicing Faith in the Classroom Christian education certainly includes instruction in the theological content of the Christian faith, but it also encompasses a particular way of life. John H. Westerhoff, former Professor of Theology and Christian Nurture at Duke Divinity School, argues that Christian education is fundamentally concerned with forming Christians: “Education is necessary for faithful formation, and instruction is important for faithful education, but formation is foundational because it is the primary means by which Christians are made” (267). This emphasis resonates with David I. Smith’s Everyday Christian Teaching (Eerdmans, 2025). Rather than asking what Christian doctrine tells us about education, Smith asks what Christian faith looks like in the actual practice of teaching. The distinction is significant. Smith focuses on the ordinary rhythms and practices of classroom life, examining such fundamental aspects of teaching as establishing classroom norms, constructing syllabi, framing course material, assigning tasks, pausing for reflection, and concluding a course. He demonstrates how these seemingly mundane activities can embody and cultivate Christian practices and convictions. Drawing on the Reformer John Calvin, Smith underscores this point: Christianity is “not a doctrine of the tongue, but of life” and “will be unprofitable if it does not change our heart, pervade our manners, and transform us into new creatures” (qtd. in Smith 6). For Smith, Christian teaching is not primarily expressed through extraordinary moments; rather, it is manifested through the ordinary, concrete practices that constitute classroom life. He therefore takes the reader on a journey through the rhythms of an entire semester, demonstrating how individual classroom practices acquire meaning within the larger temporal structure of teaching and learning. Drawing on Abraham Heschel’s concept of the “architecture of time,” Smith argues that practices capable of reflecting and nurturing Christian faith develop over time rather than emerging from a series of disconnected classroom tasks. Christian teaching and learning, therefore, cannot be reduced either

C. Clark Triplett 29 to a collection of pedagogical techniques or to the transmission of abstract truths. The larger story of teaching and learning unfolds through the giveand-take between instructor and student, where Christian convictions are embodied in concrete relationships and practices. As previously argued in a separate review, such interactions can demonstrate how convictions shape relationships and “reveal how to live life in the world” (Triplett 84). This movement back and forth between Christian convictions and everyday practices opens new possibilities for understanding the relationship between faith and life (Smith 10). Smith addresses important questions concerning the teaching and learning process, particularly the ways in which pedagogical practices embody the Christian life. He raises probing questions about the seemingly ordinary methods and practices of teaching: How does a teacher begin a class? Does a professor structure the classroom primarily around authority, or does the professor cultivate a sense of community? Although such decisions may appear mundane, Smith argues that they are significant dimensions of Christian teaching. Teaching methods and techniques are never neutral; each pedagogical decision communicates something about what the teacher believes concerning students, knowledge, authority, community, and learning. Just as the instruction of theological content articulates the truth and meaning of Christian doctrine, so Christian faith is expressed through the methods and forms by which teaching occurs. The seemingly mundane choices teachers make each day gradually shape the character and texture of the classroom experience. The chapter entitled “Naming Names” provides a compelling example of how ordinary classroom practices can articulate the nature of Christian faith. The process of learning and using students’ names transforms a vague category into “names and faces, each representing a person who will learn with us. Learning those names and faces becomes one of our first practical challenges” (22). Smith draws on Jacob Stratman’s use of sociologist Zygmunt Bauman’s three ways in which human beings come together: “being-aside, being-with, and being-for” (22). Being-aside occurs when students remain merely objects in the background, individuals whose presence is momentary before they fade once again into the background. Teachers may, however, move toward being-with students in which they are drawn out of the background and recognized as persons. Yet such connections may remain limited to the duration of a particular encounter. There are also opportunities for teachers to enter a relationship of being-for the other in which students become persons who affect the teacher just as the teacher is affected by them. As Smith explains, “We each bring who we are open to being affected by one another. We exist for each other in richer, morally engaged ways” (23). This concept resonates with what the French philosopher Emmanuel Levinas describes through the notion of “facing.” For Levinas, encountering the face of another person constitutes an immediate ethical relationship in which the other’s presence places an unchosen and

30 Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal unconditional moral demand upon us: “[I am] not free to ignore the meaningful world into which the face of the Other has introduced [me]” (Levinas 219). Smith’s argument is that Christian faith is already at work in these seemingly ordinary encounters. From the beginning of a class, face-to-face relationships can embody what it means to live as a new person in Christ. Philosopher James K. A. Smith writes about how particular images of the good life, or human flourishing, become infused in our hearts and lives in ways that govern our actions and behaviors toward a particular way of life. He explains, “(A) desire for and orientation to a particular vision of the good life (kingdom) becomes operative in us (motivating actions, decisions, etc.) by becoming an integral part of the fabric of our dispositions—our precognitive tendencies to act in certain ways and toward certain ends” (J. Smith, Desiring 55). These dispositions are what philosophers such as Aristotle and Alasdair MacIntyre describe as habits: patterns of action that become a kind of second nature, expressed through consistent and persistent ways of acting over time. According to Smith, such habits become a hinge upon which our lives turn, directing our decisions toward particular ends. They shape our responses to different situations, often operating automatically and without conscious deliberation; through repetition, they become deeply inscribed in our dispositions. In a similar manner, David Smith makes the formation of habits a central concern of Everyday Christian Teaching. Christian teaching is not primarily a matter of occasionally asking, “How can I make this class Christian?” Rather, teachers must cultivate habits of reflection that enable them to recognize connections between Christian faith and pedagogy with increasing intentionality and, eventually, with a degree of intuitive awareness. This understanding provides the foundation for Smith’s metaphor of Christian education as a journey. Christian education is not a destination that a teacher reaches after mastering a particular methodology. Instead, it is an ongoing journey characterized by reflection, experimentation, failure, revision, pausing, and growth. What distinguishes Christian teaching is precisely this continuing process of formation: rather than being a finished or static endeavor, it is an ongoing practice through which habits of faithfulness are cultivated and embodied. As previously indicated, Smith understands Christian education as something demonstrated in the classroom, which becomes a place of hospitality and a setting in which teachers model what it means to be formed as Christians. It is a space “in which teaching and learning are inseparable from the formation of a community that seeks to embody love, justice, and service” (Triplett 86). Throughout the book, Smith makes clear that the classroom is more than a site for the dissemination of information; rather, it is a formative community in which Christian faith is embodied and cultivated in the lives of students. His approach challenges teachers to understand their vocation within a larger narrative of love and redemption, one that provides students with a context in which they can

C. Clark Triplett 31 learn not only how to understand the created order but also how to live faithfully within it. Where Shatzer and Smith Agree and/or Disagree on Christian Education These two books are well worth reading, and significant points of comparison emerge with respect to their primary concerns, methodologies, goals, key concepts, and strengths. Despite their different approaches to Christian education, Shatzer and Smith share several fundamental convictions. First, neither author believes that Christian education should be confined to explicitly theological content. A professor, for example, should not assume that teaching a discipline such as biology provides no appropriate occasion for discussing Christian beliefs or that theological reflection belongs exclusively in Bible courses or chapel services. Both authors advocate a more comprehensive understanding of the relationship between Christian faith and the various academic disciplines. Their approach rests on the conviction that God is the Creator of all things and, therefore, all knowledge ultimately relates to God. Consequently, there is potential for meaningful interaction between theological subject matter and the subject matter of other academic disciplines. The nature and extent of this interaction, however, will vary according to the discipline. The relationship between Christian theology and psychology, for instance, may take a different form from the relationship between theology and physics. Second, both authors reject a rigid sacred/secular dichotomy, or, more philosophically, a Kantian noumenal/phenomenal dualism, that separates matters of faith and theology from the subject matter of other academic disciplines. Both imply that there is no genuinely neutral intellectual territory in which Christian convictions cease to be relevant. Shatzer develops this argument primarily “from above,” beginning with theology and considering how Christian doctrine should shape academic inquiry. Smith approaches the issue “from below,” beginning with pedagogical practices and examining how those practices embody particular Christian convictions and assumptions. Despite these different points of departure, both authors maintain that knowledge ultimately finds its source in God, even though the relationship between theological knowledge and the various academic disciplines is complex and cannot always be articulated in simple or uniform terms. Third, and perhaps most significantly, both authors understand education, at least in part, as a formative process. This may represent their most important point of convergence. Education is not merely the transmission of information or the acquisition of intellectual content; it also participates in shaping students’ character, identities, practices, and lives of faith. Christian education, therefore, involves a process of

32 Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal enculturation through which students are formed by their interactions with faculty, peers, institutional practices, and the broader community of a Christian college or university. Such an understanding of formation does not require the suppression of cultural, linguistic, or ethnic differences. Rather, a Christian educational community can provide a context in which diverse languages, cultures, and heritages are encountered, valued, and enriched through participation in a shared community of faith. This shared emphasis on formation places both Smith and Shatzer within an educational philosophy concerned not simply with the acquisition of knowledge but also with formation, vocation, virtue, and discipleship. Their understanding of education also corresponds closely with James K. A. Smith’s broader account of human persons as embodied creatures whose deepest orientation is not necessarily centered in the intellect or the “disembodied mind,” but in the “heart.” As Smith explains, the heart is “more closely tethered to our sensible, affective nature” and involves “the imagination” as much as the intellect, with imagination being nourished by images mediated through the senses” (Desiring 57). From this perspective, Christian education necessarily involves more than communicating ideas: it seeks to shape the desires, practices, habits, and imaginations through which students come to inhabit and embody a particular vision of the Christian life. Although the two authors agree on several fundamental matters related to Christian education, they differ significantly in how they approach the task. Shatzer is much more explicit about the place of classical orthodox theology and doctrine, organizing his discussion around the traditional theological loci, including God, creation, anthropology, sin, Christ, the Holy Spirit, salvation, the church, and eschatology. Smith, by contrast, is less concerned with reiterating a particular theological system, even though he clearly assumes that students possess a basic knowledge of Christian theology. His primary interest is helping teachers practice the Christian faith in concrete situations within the classroom. In this respect, Smith’s approach might be described as incarnational because he emphasizes how Christian faith is “enfleshed” or “embodied” in the ordinary behaviors, relationships, and interactions that constitute classroom life. This review has characterized the differences between the two authors as “top-down” and “bottom-up” approaches to Christian education. Shatzer begins with theological content and a worldvieworiented framework, moves from that framework to its application within a particular academic discipline, and finally considers how faculty members might integrate theological commitments into their teaching practices. Smith, by contrast, begins with concrete practices, moves to reflection by both teachers and students, considers the theological insights that emerge from that reflection, and then seeks to develop more faithful practices. In this sense, Shatzer provides the teacher with a map, while Smith helps teachers and students learn how to walk the terrain. Shatzer effectively says, “Here is the theological vision within which Christian

C. Clark Triplett 33 teaching should take place,” whereas Smith says, “Let us examine carefully what teachers and students do every day and ask whether those practices embody a Christian vision.” Thus, the two authors approach Christian education from different starting points. It might be said that Shatzer approaches Christian education primarily from an epistemological perspective, whereas Smith begins with a hermeneutical process in which practices are examined, interpreted, and reconsidered in light of Christian faith. Although these approaches are significantly different, there is a productive tension between them that may provide an important balance for understanding how integration should function. Shatzer raises an implicit question for Smith: Can Christian pedagogy remain consistently Christian without an explicit theological framework? Put differently, there must be some theological starting point that establishes what makes a pedagogical practice distinctly Christian. Smith’s approach, however, raises an equally important implicit question for Shatzer: Can theological integration be effective if it is not embodied in concrete practices? A professor may possess an excellent understanding of Christian theology and yet teach in a manner that fails to model the Christian life. Even an institution committed to orthodox Christianity can, for various reasons, reproduce patterns of competitiveness, authoritarianism, and achievement-oriented behavior that are indistinguishable from those found in non-Christian institutions. Thus, Shatzer guards against theological shallowness, while Smith guards against practical superficiality. Taken together, their approaches suggest that Christian education requires both theological depth and faithful embodiment. There are several individual criticisms that can be raised concerning each approach, as well as a more significant issue that relates to both perspectives and will be addressed separately later in this review. With regard to Shatzer, one might question whether he makes the process of integration appear easier than it actually is. This concern extends beyond Shatzer to many institutions that advocate the integration of faith and learning. Possessing knowledge of Christian doctrine, regardless of how sophisticated that knowledge may be, does not automatically enable a professor to determine how particular doctrines should shape his or her academic discipline. For example, the doctrine of creation, or a theology of creation, does not immediately answer every question or provide an obvious bridge between theological language and the terminology and methodologies of disciplines such as psychology, economics, biology, literature, or political science. Each academic discipline possesses its own vocabulary, research methods, assumptions, and questions, making movement from one field of inquiry to another inherently complex. The difficult work of integration therefore takes place in a kind of middle ground between theology and a particular academic discipline, where theological convictions must be thoughtfully translated into disciplinary questions and practices. Such integration is often easier to advocate in principle than to accomplish in practice.

34 Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal Smith’s greatest strengths, his sustained attention to the ordinary and concrete dimensions of teaching, also creates a potential limitation. His approach could be interpreted as suggesting that good pedagogy is sufficient regardless of the theological convictions that underlie it. Smith certainly does not intend this conclusion; his broader body of work makes explicit theological connections that clarify the Christian foundations of his approach. Nevertheless, readers unfamiliar with his other writings might question whether practices such as kindness, hospitality, attentive listening, community, reflection, and thoughtful engagement represent specifically Christian commitments or simply exemplary pedagogical practices. Shatzer’s work helps clarify why theological foundations matter in this regard. Christian pedagogy is not merely pedagogy practiced by Christians; it is pedagogy shaped by a distinctly Christian understanding of God, creation, sin, redemption, community, vocation, and hope. What Happens After Christian Education? Both Shatzer and Smith acknowledge the importance of vocation and the need to prepare students to enter and contribute to society. Yet there is relatively little discussion in either work of what it means to live out the Christian faith in a complex and pluralistic world or how the goals of Christian education relate to engagement with the broader culture. Most colleges and universities emphasize preparation for careers and these institutions offer programs designed to prepare students for specific professions, including nursing, social work, education, business, and ministry. What receives considerably less attention, however, is the role of public theology in Christian education. Public theology may be understood as the practice of drawing upon the convictions and values of the Christian faith to engage constructively with the wider society. Rather than focusing exclusively on the internal concerns of the church, public theology brings Christian perspectives into conversations about matters such as government, economics, science, the environment, race, and social justice. Its concern is the common good and the flourishing of society, regardless of religious affiliation. Public theology also seeks to translate theological convictions and religious symbols into language that can be understood by those both inside and outside the church, thereby creating opportunities for public dialogue and critical engagement. Like discussions of faith and learning, public theology connects theological reflection with disciplines such as economics, sociology, political science, ethics, and the natural sciences. At its best, it offers a theological vision of the common good grounded in justice, human dignity, and the thriving of creation. Within this framework is also a theology of restoration, rooted in the conviction that the redemptive work of Christ has implications not only for individuals and the church but for humanity and God’s entire creation. There have been ongoing debates about the purpose and proper place of public theology. Religious engagement with politics and other

C. Clark Triplett 35 public issues can raise legitimate concerns about coercion, imposition, or religious totalitarianism, particularly when religious convictions are inappropriately used to justify political power. Nevertheless, many Christians maintain that public theology has an important role to play in contemporary society. Yale theologian Miroslav Volf, for example, argues, “Unlike those who think religion should stay out of politics, I will argue in this book that religious people ought to bring their visions of the good life into the public sphere—into politics as other aspects of public life” (x). In the current political and cultural climate, Christian engagement in public life requires particular attention to moral and civic responsibility, especially toward those who are marginalized, disenfranchised, or otherwise unable to speak for themselves. Such responsibility should be characterized by virtues central to Scripture and the Christian tradition, including humility, self-sacrifice, compassion, and love of neighbor. Volf speaks of the importance of attitudes of hospitality and an openness toward those of different religious and cultural backgrounds rather than an attempt to impose a comprehensive religious system upon society. Christians, therefore, can demonstrate tolerance, generosity, and kindness as expressions of what it means to follow Christ. At the same time, Volf makes clear that he does not speak or write merely as a “generic religious person,” but as a follower of Christ seeking to understand the Christian vocation in public life: “My task is to offer a vision of the role of the followers of Jesus Christ in public life, a role that stays clear of the dangers of ‘exclusion’ and ‘saturation’” (xiv). He recognizes that the relationship between Christian faith and public life is complex and that there is no single or simplistic way for Christians to relate to culture. Christian faith may challenge and resist certain dimensions of society while affirming, transforming, and engaging others. From this perspective, public theology can be understood as a natural extension of Christian education. Christ is understood as the center of all things, and his coming into the world is understood as having implications for the good of the wider world. Christian faith is, in Volf’s words, a “prophetic faith that seeks to mend the world” (xv). Consequently, the Christian attitude toward culture is not simply to withdraw from society or to conform uncritically to it, but to participate in its renewal. Christians are called to be “salt and light,” recognizing that following Christ entails caring for others and working toward the flourishing of human beings as creatures made by God. As Volf observes, “A vision of human flourishing and the common good is the main thing the Christian faith brings to the public debate” (xvi). If Christian education is fundamentally concerned with the formation of people who understand and embody the Christian faith, then its educational task cannot end at graduation. It must also prepare students to inhabit the public sphere faithfully, to bring the habits, virtues, intellectual convictions, and practices cultivated through Christian education into their professions, communities, and civic responsibilities. In this sense, the question of what

36 Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal happens after Christian education is inseparable from the question of what Christian education is ultimately intended to accomplish. Stephen Fowl and L. Gregory Jones advocate recovering a vision of the common good in which “Christians embody their interpretations of Scripture in their present situations” (56). This vision encompasses not only the body of Christ but also those whom Scripture describes as “aliens and strangers.” For Fowl and Jones, part of recovering the common good requires cultivating an attitude of openness toward strangers and those who are disenfranchised. Although Christians are called to form distinctive communities as the people of God, this calling does not entail a retreat from the everyday realities of contemporary life into a protected or isolated enclave. Rather, it involves developing a vocation of caring for others and extending hospitality to those who do not share the Christian faith and, in some cases, those who have been marginalized by society itself. As Fowl and Jones observe, “the vocation of providing hospitality to strangers requires an openness to others” (75). Christian institutions that fail to cultivate an urgency within the classroom to engage the world and participate in what James K. A. Smith calls “holy worldliness” risk missing significant opportunities to demonstrate what it means to be a new people in Christ. Smith challenges Christians to live in the world without abandoning their calling to love their neighbors by “building healthy, just, shared institutions conducive to flourishing” (Awaiting xii). Christian education, therefore, should not simply prepare students to function within existing social structures; it should also cultivate the theological imagination and moral dispositions necessary for students to participate constructively in the common life of the world. In his essay “Heaven Meets Earth,” former Archbishop of Canterbury Rowan Williams expands on the concept of “recapitulation” to describe how the reality of Christ liberates human beings to become what they were created to be. More than this, Christ gives human beings the freedom to become creators, people through whom the Creator brings life and promise into the world. Williams writes, “Uniting things earthly and things heavenly: Christ’s life, death, and resurrection have the effect of clearing our inner imaginative space [ . . .] enlarging the boundaries of what is open to humans made in the divine image. The Spirit who is breathed by the risen Jesus over his friends makes this actual in our lives, lighting up the face of the human stranger and ‘the face of the earth,’ the place where our roots are” (62–63). The Christian vocation, therefore, is not a movement away from the world but a renewed capacity to perceive and participate in God’s work within it. According to Williams, recognition that human life is ultimately held within the providence of God can liberate Christians from the fear that causes them to despise the stranger or the Other. The resurrection of Christ opens the possibility of seeing both human beings and the world itself as being caught up in God’s work of renewal. Such an understanding of the Christian life is essential to a comprehensive approach to Christian

C. Clark Triplett 37 education. If education is concerned not merely with the transmission of information but with the formation of persons, then Christian education must prepare students to recognize their vocation within God’s world and to engage that world with hospitality, courage, justice, and hope. Conclusion Taken together, the perspectives of Shatzer and Smith suggest that Christian education cannot be adequately understood through either a purely theological or a purely practical lens. Looking at Christian education “from above” reminds educators that Christian teaching is grounded in the truth of God, the reality of creation, the nature of humanity, the problem of sin, the person and work of Christ, the presence of the Spirit, the life of the church, and the hope of redemption. Looking at Christian education “from below,” however, draws attention to the practices, relationships, habits, pedagogical choices, and communities through which Christian faith becomes embodied in everyday life. The two perspectives are not competing approaches but complementary dimensions of Christian education. This synthesis also suggests that the purpose of Christian education extends beyond the classroom and beyond the acquisition of knowledge. If Christian education is fundamentally formative, then the question is not simply what students know but what kind of people they are becoming. Theological knowledge should shape perception, desire, character, relationships, and practices. Likewise, the ordinary practices of teaching and learning are never merely pedagogical techniques; they participate in the formation of persons whose lives will eventually be expressed in families, churches, workplaces, communities, and public institutions. Christian education therefore has both an intellectual and a vocational dimension. The implications for Christian institutions are significant. Christian colleges and universities should certainly prepare students for professions and provide them with the intellectual resources necessary for responsible participation in society. Yet preparation for a vocation cannot be separated from preparation for a particular way of inhabiting the world as Christians. Students should be equipped not only to enter existing institutions but also to imagine how those institutions might contribute to human flourishing. Such education requires the integration of theological conviction with practices of hospitality, justice, service, humility, and love of neighbor. It calls Christians neither to withdraw from the world nor simply to accommodate themselves to it, but to participate faithfully in its renewal. Ultimately, looking at Christian education from above and below calls for an understanding of education that is both deeply theological and profoundly embodied. The vision from above provides the Christian account of God, creation, humanity, Christ, redemption, and the world

38 Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal toward which Christian education is directed. The vision from below asks how that account is enacted through the ordinary practices of teaching, learning, community, vocation, and public engagement. Christian education is most faithful when these two perspectives converge, when theological truth becomes embodied in Christian practices and when those practices bear witness to the truth of the gospel in the world. The goal, then, is not simply to produce educated Christians, but to form Christians who can faithfully inhabit God’s world, love their neighbors, welcome the stranger, pursue the common good, and participate in the work of making visible the new creation that has begun in Christ. Works Cited Fowl, Stephen, and L. Gregory Jones. Reading in Communion: Scripture and Ethics in Christian Life. Eerdmans, 1991. Gerkin, Charles. The Living Human Document: Re-Visioning Pastoral Counseling in a Hermeneutical Mode. Abingdon, 1984. Griffis, Rachel B., et al. Deep Reading: Practices to Subvert the Vices of Our Distracted, Hostile, and Consumeristic Age. Baker, 2024. Levinas, Emmanuel. Totality and Infinity: An Essay on Exteriority. Translated by Alphonso Lingis, Duquesne University Press, 1969. Shatzer, Jacob. Faithful Learning: A Vision for Theologically Integrated Education. B&H Academic, 2023. Smith, David I. Everyday Christian Teaching: A Guide to Practicing Faith in the Classroom. Eerdmans, 2025. Smith, James K. A. Desiring the Kingdom: Worship, Worldview, and Cultural Formation. Baker, 2009. _______. Awaiting the King: Reforming Public Theology. Baker, 2017. Triplett, C. Clark. “Review of Everyday Christian Teaching: A Guide to Practicing Faith in the Classroom, by David I. Smith.” Intégrité, vol. 24, no. 2, Spring 2025, pp. 83–89. Volf, Miroslav. A Public Faith: How Followers of Christ Should Serve the Common Good. Brazos, 2011. Westerhoff, John H. “Fashioning Christians in Our Day.” Schooling Christians: ‘Holy Experiments’ in American Education, edited by Stanley Hauerwas and John H. Westerhoff, Eerdmans, 1992, pp. 262–81. Williams, Rowan. “Heaven Meets Earth.” Plough, Winter 2024, pp. 60– 63.

Aaron C. Halstead 39

[Book Review] Peters, Rob. The Overseer: The Missing Jewel in the Crown of Glory. Corpus, 2023. ISBN 9781961186545. 243 pages, $23.73.

Cover image: The Overseer by Rob Peters. Image reproduced for purposes of review and commentary. Reviewed by Aaron S. Halstead Rob Peters is the founder of Corpus, a parachurch ministry dedicated to assisting churches with revitalization efforts. Before founding Corpus, Peters served as a pastor at at least three different churches for over thirty years. He also received a DMin from Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary in Wake Forest, North Carolina. The Overseer is written for pastors and sets out to provide practical help for those readers to adopt a biblical understanding of leadership. Drawing primarily from 1 Peter 5:1–3, Peters explains that Scripture describes three distinct roles that compose the pastoral office: the role of the elder, the role of the shepherd or pastor, and the role of the overseer. According to Peters, seminaries provide training for the first two roles, giving students tools on how to teach and preach as an elder and care for

40 Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal the flock as a pastor. However, Peters contends that pastoral training is largely unconcerned with the role of an overseer and how the pastor as overseer is to lead the church (xii–xiii). Each chapter begins with a narrative section, recounting a scenario that is probably typical for most pastors. The narratives focus on three fictional pastors and the leadership challenges they face in their respective churches. Most of the chapters present the material Peters has researched from the Bible and other resources on leadership, arguing for a framework to understand the biblical role of an overseer. Over the course of the book, the narrative sections in each chapter demonstrate how a pastor could implement the data discussed in the book and provide a picture of how a pastor can adapt his ministry to the framework in The Overseer. As it relates to biblical material, Peter largely draws from five biblical characters that he calls the biblical Overseers—Jesus, Joseph, Hezekiah, Josiah, and Nehemiah. The stories of these figures are explored and mined for insights into how a contemporary pastor is able to lead. Peters argues that from these biblical examples of leadership, six skills that an overseer should possess: (1) the ability to accurately assess reality, (2) rightly position the church for change, (3) clearly casting vision, (4) multiplying disciples, (5) rallying other leaders to participate in the change plan, and (6) effeftively executing the plan (15). An accurate assessment of The Overseer requires attention given to the preface and acknowledgements of the book, which readers may be tempted to skip. In the preface, Peters tells the story of his own ministry struggles, particularly as it relates to leadership as opposed to preaching and caring for the flock. In that struggle, he narrates how he was led to study Scripture and uncover the biblical model for overseeing. “The result,” he writes, “is a set of timeless truths, not trendy new lingo applied to recycled business principles.” The Overseer represents, in Peters’ words, a “shift” away from “principles and philosophy” derived from secular leadership models to God’s “mandate for effective biblical leadership” (iii). To that end, the reader will find the first chapter in The Overseer, “Embrace the Role of Overseer,” to be encouraging in the task of overseeing and inspiring in its use of biblical figures as exemplars of biblical leadership. The chapter is written with the assumption so prevalent in evangelical ministry today that churches should seek constant numerical growth. This assumption is seen most clearly in Peters’ discussion of a church’s need for revitalization and assessing where that church may be on a natural life cycle of growth and decline (9–11). That said, readers jaded from other resources on church growth will find themselves encouraged of Peters’ gentle and measured corrections to the fascination contemporary evangelical churches have with vision and growth. Peters claims rightly, “While vision remains important to effective leadership, you’ll notice that leadershipon the back side requires a grasp of core values, not just a great vision for what to do next. Churches in decline need to recapture an understanding of exactly why they exist” (9–11). In the context of Peters’ argument, the purpose of that existence is to engage

Aaron C. Halstead 41 in the mission of God. Further, Peters comments, “As valuable as some church growth principles are, they are not adequate for leading churches out of decline on the back side of the curve [or, reversing the downward life cycle]” (11). The first chapter of The Overseer promises the reader a biblical framework for understanding what, at least in Peters’ experience, has been largely untaught and misunderstood. Unfortunately, The Overseer fails to deliver on that promise. In the preface and acknowledgements, Peters gives great recognition to the shaping influence Aubrey Malphurs has had on the development of what is presented in The Overseer (i, vii). Readers familiar with the evangelical Christian leadership literature will recognize the name and remember the long shadow Malphurs casts on the field. Further, Peters acknowledges the ongoing dialogue he had with Will Mancini, another giant in the field of evangelical Christian leadership, while writing The Overseer (viii). Readers already familiar with the literature in this field will not find anything worthy of note in this work. In many ways, The Overseer is a representation of Malphurs’ own thought in Advanced Strategic Planning (Baker, 2013). Worthy of commendation, and what sets The Overseer apart from other works in the field, is the third chapter, “Convergence: Your Church’s ‘Sweet’ Spot.” The substance of the chapter begins with light exegesis in the letters to the seven churches in Revelation. Peters draws attention to the unique challenges each church encountered, as well as the positive contributions each church made in ministering to its context. From this, Peters makes a compelling case that each church in the contemporary world should perform the hard work of discovering how that particular church is uniquely shaped to make disciples in its unique context (41). It’s that commendable contribution that makes The Overseer disappointing elsewhere. The book does not provide any meaningful interaction with Scripture that would help churches uncover this “sweet spot” for ministry. Practical tools developed by the Corpus organization that Peters founded are provided, but in many cases, these tools are unhelpful. The Overseer assumes the reader is familiar with the work and strategy of Corpus, and so concepts and patterns of thinking are named but not explained. In summary, The Overseer does not make a meaningful contribution to the field of Christian leadership. Though it sets the reader up to embrace a deeply biblical model of church leadership that is not primarily based on recycled business-leadership principles, it ends up doing exactly that. Pastors and leaders who hunger for a deeply biblical model of church leadership should look elsewhere. Pastors and leaders willing to settle for recycled business-leadership principle should still bypass The Overseer and embrace the model found in its primary source, Advanced Strategic Planning by Malphurs.

42 Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal

[Book Review] Loritts, Bryan C. The Offensive Church: Breaking the Cycle of Ethnic Disunity. IVP, 2023. ISBN 9781514005972. 192 pages, $24.99.

Cover image: The Official Church by Bryan C. Loritts. Image reproduced for purposes of review and commentary. Reviewed by Aaron S. Halstead Bryan C. Loritts (DMin, Liberty University), serves as Executive Pastor of Teaching and Development at The Summit Church in Raleigh, North Carolina. In addition, he is the Send Network’s Vice President of Regions. In this latter role, he trains church planters in multiethnic church planting. He is also the president and founder of The Kainos Movement, which supports multiethnic church ministry and equips churches with tools to assist in fostering a multiethnic culture within the church. He is the author of eight books, several related to the themes discussed in The Offensive Church, such as A Cross-Shaped Gospel: Reconciling Heaven and Earth (Moody, 2011), Right Color, Wrong Culture: The Type of Leader Your Organization Need to Become Multiethnic (Moody, 2014), Insider Outsider: My Journey as a Stranger in White Evangelicalism and My Hope for Us All (Zondervan, 2018), and Enduring Friendship: Sticking Together in an Age of Unfriending (IVP, 2024). He was also the editor of Letters to Birmingham Jail: A Response to the Word and Dreams of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. (Moody, 2014). The Offensive Church takes its title not from a challenge to a church to offend its detractors or the watching world, but from the idea of “go on the offensive” as it relates to multiethnic ministry and what Loritts calls ethnic unity. Taking his primary metaphor from Matthew 16:18, Loritts

Aaron S. Halstead 43 notes how the church, as described by Jesus, should minister with the gospel to such an extent that, to use warfare imagery, they are offensively attacking the gates of hell rather than defending hell’s assaults. Loritts uses this defining metaphor from Matthew’s Gospel to argue that evangelical churches in the United States should seek intentional ethnic unity. In constructing that argument, Loritts brings a biblical theology of discipleship to bear on the issue of multiethnic ministry in the local church. This argument is not a simple advocacy for diversity with scriptural proof-texting. Rather, Loritts takes the reader to several texts and themes in the New Testament that speak to discipleship, the communal life of the church, or how the gospel is meant to influence human relationships. Once that biblical theology is in place, he will then apply it to the issue of ethnic unity. Though not stated succinctly, the thesis of The Offensive Church is, “The problem of race in America can never be truly remedied without a commitment to disciple people both vertically and horizontally. As long as the homogenous church is the norm, we will continue to chase our tails in a dizzying circle, ready to pass out over the problem of race…There is a profound difference between diversity and ethnic unity. What’s missing is communal discipleship in which we are formed in the way of Jesus and into the new humanity with one another” (6–7). However, Loritts grounds this movement from communal discipleship in general to the specific area of ethnic unity using Paul as his model. Loritts acknowledges how Paul would teach on the gospel and the reconciliation it brought on a vertical dimension between God and humanity, but he emphasizes, rightly, how Paul would apply that gospel to communal relationships, citing Romans 12–16, Ephesians 4–6, and Colossians 3–4 specifically (6). The first chapter, “Playing Offense,” is largely Loritts’ explanation of the offense metaphor as found in Matthew 16, also laying the beginning foundation that discipleship takes place in communal relationships within this church that Jesus has founded (14). Chapter two, “Seeing through the Fog,” draws from texts in Acts and Paul’s argument for Jew-Gentile unity in Ephesians to argue that a believer’s primary identity is established in his or her union with Christ. As it relates to the issue of ethnic unity, Loritts posits two “threats” to this unity that ground Christian unity outside of the gospel: colorblindness and ethnic idolatry. The basis of this argument is that the gospel neither destroys ethnic identity, but it does reorder ethnic identity away from primary importance. This chapter is highly illustrative of Loritts’ chief asset as an author: as a black Christian, he does not shy away from speaking against racial sin and indifference in white Christians, but neither does he excuse what he sees as less than biblical thinking on race and ethnicity in the black community. His encouragement and admonition speak to both sides of the issue. The third chapter, “Communal Identity and Ethnic Unity,” builds upon the argument in the previous chapter. Loritts especially draws from the epistle to the Ephesians to contend that a gospel identity granted through union with Christ leads to reconciled relationships within the

44 Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal community of faith. This chapter is crucial to the argument of the book. Loritts leads the reader to see how the gospel does not simply call for diversity or the bare presence of multiple ethnicities. Rather, he is calling for a gospel-shaped ethnic unity (43), a fellowship and solidarity shared across ethnic lines that is grounded in Christ (48) and the community’s love for one another (45–47). It is in this context that Loritts offers a rather helpful critique of American church ministry. Though contemporary Christians may understand unity in the gospel as an intellectual concept, they have largely been trained to think of discipleship as purely individual. The apostle Paul in Ephesians teaches us, according to Loritts, that discipleship is communal; disciples are shaped for the benefit of the community of faith (49). The underlying assumption is that until the discipleship paradigm shifts in the church, the issue of ethnic unity will not be adequately resolved. This reader also asks, “Until the discipleship paradigm shifts in the church, what other issues will remain unresolved?” The fourth and fifth chapters seek to provide practical applications of the argument in the prior chapters. Chapter Four, “The Practices of Ethnic Unity,” largely applies Christian virtues (humility, patience, and gentleness) to the conversation of ethnic unity. Chapter Five, “Beware of a New Vision with an Old Culture,” is a helpful chapter in the conversation, but no doubt some readers will react strongly to its contents. In this chapter, Loritts addresses the historical and cultural influences that would lead evangelical churches in America to dismiss the issue of ethnic unity. For this reason, some may find Lorritts’ material in this chapter to be controversial. As a popular work, the intent of the chapter is not meant to be an academic treatment of the history of race in America or a sociological survey of the current climate, though Lorritts does cite sources that demonstrate his claims. He cannot be criticized for the lack of scholarly work in the chapter, as that is outside the intended audience of the book. However, the unfortunate result is that the arguments may fall on deaf ears. That said, Loritts’ comments in this chapter concerning the biblical concept of koinonia and the need for relationships across ethnic boundaries are strong and can hardly be critiqued (89–99). The remaining chapters of the book—Chapter Six, “Proclaiming a Robust Gospel”; Chapter 7, “Practicing a Robust Gospel”; Chapter 8, “Reliable Leadership”; Chapter 9, “Relational Environments”—expand upon a framework introduced in the fifth chapter for assessing a church’s intentionality in addressing ethnic unity. Respectively, the chapters address the need for evangelical churches to recognize the social dimensions of the gospel; engaging meaningfully in the practices of learning from ethnic minorities, lamenting past injustices, and building intentional relationships across ethnic dividing lines; the need for church leadership to be intentional in seeing this issue rectified in their congregations; and the need for local churches to provide environments where relationships can be built across ethnic lines. Though not to dismiss the truthfulness of the contents or the benefit it may offer readers, none of

Aaron S. Halstead 45 these chapters adds anything significant to the conversation that is not addressed elsewhere. Further, readers convinced by Loritts’ argument in the prior chapters will find these remaining chapters to be logical extensions of the themes he’s addressed; readers opposed to the arguments will easily dismiss them. Loritts offers an evangelical perspective on multiethnic ministry in American churches that is deeply rooted in the scriptures and is theologically rich. The exegesis Loritts develops from relevant texts and the biblical theology developed from those texts both provide a strong foundation for the practices he commends in the second half of the book. His repeated call to truly engage the scriptures and for white evangelicals to humbly listen on this issue is neither pedantic nor condescending. Readers with an axe to grind or otherwise unwilling to acknowledge their own presuppositions will reach the end of the book unconvinced. Readers who read The Offensive Church carefully and with genuine curiosity will find a popular-level, theologically robust, and deeply evangelical approach in working for ethnic unity in American churches.

46 Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal

[Book Review] Hamman, Grace. Ask of Old Paths: Medieval Virtues and Vices for a Whole and Holy Life. Zondervan, 2025. ISBN 9780310167204. 224 pages, $29.99.

Cover image: Ask of Old Path by Grace Hamman. Image reproduced for purposes of review and commentary. Reviewed by Julie Ooms In two senses, the language of virtue and vice is hardly new to Christian publishing. First, many (many) books have been published in the past two decades exploring how contemporary Christians can apply virtue language to their own lives as well as to their fields of study and to cultural criticism.1 Second, and perhaps more obviously, the language of virtues hasn’t just been common to the past three decades of Christian publishing in the West—it extends centuries into the past and has been a way for 1

Two examples that spring to the forefront of my mind are Karen Swallow Prior’s On Reading Well (2022), which argues that reading literary works can help us cultivate virtues, and Rebecca Konyndyk DeYoung’s Glittering Vices (2009), which introduces contemporary readers to the seven deadly sins and how they might crop up like weeds in twenty-first-century life.

Julie Ooms 47 Christians to understand the “moral quality of their actions and beliefs” for just as long (Hamman xvii). In such a context, it might be easy to dismiss a book like Hamman’s as tilling ground that has already been planted by many other authors and thus leeched of its nutrients. But such a dismissal would be a mistake. Hamman’s book winsomely invites its readers on a pilgrimage through medieval understandings of the seven cardinal vices and their corresponding virtues. It does so while acknowledging both how “unhelpfully old-fashioned” some of these words might sound (xix) and how necessary they are in our current contexts. Particularly as an introduction to the virtues and vices, both as they were understood by medievals and how we can apply them to our own lives, Hamman’s book is a rich and worthwhile read. Hamman’s preface and first chapter help readers, particularly Protestants, understand why the language of virtue is so helpful and should not be dismissed just because it isn’t named explicitly in Scripture. In the Western church, and in the West more generally, Hamman notes, “the power in moral discourse seems to have moved into values language,” and this is not a positive development (xvi). “Values are an incomplete and inadequate way of determining the moral quality of actions and beliefs,” she argues, because they lead to quickly to “values binaries” that “erase the complexities of life together and of nuances in position” in order to neatly categorize people into this or that voting bloc or identity group (xvii), often demonizing the “other side” as they do. Moreover, Hamman argues, “Values by themselves do not automatically translate into meaningful and active responses of love” (xviii). She’s right. If we are preoccupied with making sure that we and our interlocutors have the “correct” values, we shirk our responsibility to love and understand others as fellow imagebearers, and we become more likely to associate those who disagree with us with what is “incorrect” or evil. Hamman’s solution is the language of virtue: “real virtues concern the habitual actions of a real person, a moral agent, not designs, signals, or even our teammates. When we empty our values language of our real habits and dispositions, we run into trouble,” but with a renewed focus on virtue, we renew our focus on each other as real persons (xviii-xix). We also commune across time with Christians who lived long before us and whose wisdom we can learn from in our own time. Hamman acknowledges that some of her readers might balk at her focus on virtues, since they may feel like “an extrabiblical imposition, something people made up to get others to act the way they think is good” (4). But, she explains to possible objectors, many significant doctrines of the Church (the concept of the Trinity is an important example) are based on a tradition of interpreting Scripture rather than on anything laid out explicitly in the Bible itself. Hamman asks her readers to think about the virtues similarly, as an example of how the historical church interpreted what the Bible said about “spiritual transformation and growth,” and “the fruits of the Holy Spirit and the life of love” (4).

48 Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal After the preface and first, introductory chapter, Hamman guides her readers through each of the seven cardinal vices (more colloquially known as the seven deadly sins) and their corresponding virtues. Vices are, of course, habits—patterns—of behavior that keep us from loving God, our neighbors, and ourselves rightly. The corresponding virtues are best understood as antidotes to these vices. The vice of pride, for example, is the habit of misunderstanding our own “need, our dependence, our mistakes, or our sins” (30); the virtue of humility ameliorates pride, as humility is true understanding of our “deepest identity” as “a flawed an precious embodied creature held in God’s grace” (39). The vice of envy, Hamman writes, is a habitual failure to love others, God, and ourselves; we need virtuous habits of love to counteract envy and help us “lead into the reality that [we are] already loved in [our] limitations,” just as neighbors and even our enemies are (71). It should be clear by this point in the book that Hamman is interested not only in introducing us to the vices and virtues but in making sure we don’t skimp on our definitions to make things easier for ourselves. Indeed, Hamman’s frequent use of examples, from text to images, from medieval texts shows us the depth with which these earlier Christians considered each of these virtues and vices. Thus, we should understand pride as more than just thinking too much of ourselves, and envy as more than jealousy; they are much deeper ailments that keep us from understanding and loving ourselves, others, and God himself. Pride and envy, and their antidotes humility and love, are relatively simple for Hamman to diagnose and describe in a way that’s palatable to her twenty-first-century readers. Though these chapters are excellent, it is the chapters on the vices and virtues that may seem more out-of-date that Hamman’s book truly shines. The chapter on lust and chastity is one such chapter for two reasons. First, Hamman does what readers have at this point in the book come to expect: she unsettles a common definition of a vice or virtue in order to deepen readers’ understanding. Thus, in defining lust, Hamman refuses to stop with the easy definition of “disordered sexual desire” by digging to the root of the issue: “In lust, one person uses another person for one’s own pleasure and fulfillment of desire…shrinking down the complexity of another person into an object for pleasure,” with or without a “the presence or absence of the sex act” (173). Chastity, lust’s antidote, is similarly loosed from any simplistic associations with prudishness or “purity.” Rather, Hamman defines chastity as “the utter refusal to use any human in the name of pleasure” so that the chaste “become sanctuaries in a violent world,” “havens for the used and abused” because they welcome others into their lives without seeking to use them for their own ends (176). Put this way, Hamman’s definitions of lust and chastity help us free ourselves from the cultural and other baggage we might associate with these terms. Instead of a wagging finger at anything less than pure permissiveness, Hamman’s definition of lust, grounded in centuries of the Church’s reading of Scripture, helps us to see the deep evil of using other people for our own ends. Instead of an impossible standard

Julie Ooms 49 of purity, Hamman’s definition of chastity inspires us to become not pearlclutchers but safe havens for those who have been harmed and used by others. In other words, Hamman invites us out of an impoverished valuesbased understanding of right and wrong and into the richer world of virtue, a garden where our love for ourselves and others can grow. Hamman’s book is written particularly for individual reflection; each chapter ends with a prayer (and each prayer uses first-person singular pronouns). But before each prayer, Hamman gives the reader a set of practices he or she can follow to further cultivate these virtues, and many of the practices ask readers to involve friends and family members into their explorations of the virtues. This is no accident: “the virtues have an end, a goal, a telos,” Hamman writes in her introduction, which is “life together with Jesus in the kingdom of heaven” (198, emphasis mine). Hamman’s book is certainly a wonderful read for an individual seeking deeper understanding of the virtues, but it would also work well for small group book studies or in a college theology or humanities class. And, as Hamman’s frequent inclusion of both medieval and contemporary texts suggests, Ask of Old Paths asks its readers to not stop their exploration of the virtues after they finish this single book. Rather, we should be encouraged to read, learn, and love more as we continue on our pilgrimages toward our end in Christ, that ultimate source of love and virtue.

50 Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal

[Book Review] McAleer, Graham James. Tolkien, Philosopher of War. The Catholic University of America Press, 2024. ISBN 9780813238661. 270 pages, $29.95.

Cover image: Tolkien, Philosopher of War by Graham James McAleer. Image reproduced for purposes of review and commentary. Reviewed by Matthew Bardowell Graham James McAleer’s Tolkien, Philosopher of War focuses on what conflicts in Middle-earth reveal about Tolkien’s larger philosophical stance on war. McAleer observes that war in Middle-earth has been tremendously influential within popular culture, which one can see from video games and movies that seize on this feature of Tolkien’s work as a major part of their appeal. It seems to me that contemporary interest in war and Tolkien’s Legendarium is primarily aesthetic; which is to say, people enjoy the look and feel of battles that feature Elvish blades, Dwarvish armor, and epic heroism. McAleer’s argument also asserts that war in Middle-earth is aesthetic in nature, but he means something more precise by “aesthetic.” McAleer claims that Tolkien’s interest in war stems from a love of civilization (2). He argues that Tolkien cared deeply about civilization and that his work offers an alternative to his culture’s

Matthew Bardowell 51 increasingly secular vision of what promotes thriving. The conflict between the secular age of the mid-twentieth century and Tolkien’s own vision of the good life, McAleer argues, is primarily an aesthetic difference. And, according to McAleer, this aesthetic argument explains Tolkien’s theory of war within his works. McAleer uses the term aesthetic, I think, to denote a theory of that which is beautiful, but also true and good. This clash of aesthetic theories then plays out on the battlefield over whose vision of the good life should take precedence. Before elaborating McAleer’s aesthetic claims, it is important to situate his book within a perennial conversation in Tolkien studies. This is a book about Tolkien’s attitude toward war, and, typically, books about Tolkien and the theme of war concede that Tolkien’s treatment of it is often too complex either to be decidedly pro- or anti-war. Despite this ambivalence, writers tend to push or pull themselves onto one side or the other of the pro-/anti-war debate. Within this framing, McAleer belongs to those who emphasize Tolkien’s pro-war leanings. McAleer extends the work of Janet Brennan Croft’s War and the Works of J.R.R. Tolkien (2004). Croft, writing just a few years after 9/11, argues that “Tolkien’s writing supports the concept of ‘just war’: that when force is used for evil purposes, force must be used to resist it, and that those with the strength to do so must be prepared to fight force with force, not appeasement, accommodation, or passive resistance” (Croft 5). What is notable about Croft’s argument is that it is straightforwardly pro-war. It does not have much of the ambivalence we see in most studies on war in Tolkien’s world. In Croft’s presentation of the case for war, the heroes have an obligation to meet the villains with force to frustrate their wicked schemes and restore goodness to the world. It is hard not to see this perspective as influenced by the spirit of that particular age. Published twenty years after Croft’s book, McAleer does not quite frame Tolkien’s support for war so boldly. McAleer’s insistence that war for Tolkien is aesthetic aims to buttress the pro-war stance with stronger philosophical support. McAleer observes, for instance, that the wars we see in Tolkien’s work are predicated upon philosophical clashes. These clashes are so consequential that the good of civilization hinges on their outcome. One such clash that McAleer identifies can be neatly summarized in Tolkien’s creation account in The Silmarillion. In this tale, the supreme deity of Middle-earth, Eru Ilúvatar, proposes music to the spirits he has created, and invites them each to add music of their own that explores his original theme. They each do this except for Melkor, the rebellious spirit, who sings a discordant song in defiance of Eru’s will. Eru later reveals to these spirits that their music has formed Middle-earth and given it substance and character, for good and for ill. Their music results in beauty when aligned with Eru’s theme and evil when in contradiction to it. This story provides a foundation for McAleer’s claims that, in Tolkien’s work, aesthetics and politics are linked (4). Just as in Tolkien’s creation account, the beauty of the Ainur’s singing corresponds to peace in the physical

52 Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal world. The ugliness of Melkor’s discord, by contrast, leads to a failure to live together well. McAleer rightly observes the Melkor desires to fill the world with his own ideas. McAleer then uses this observation to draw parallels between this creation myth and the story of our own civilizational clashes. He frames real-world Melkorian attempts at creation as Gnostic-adjacent approaches to solving the problems of our civilization (xxiii). Melkor wanted to see the world populated, but he wanted to populate it his way and after his own image. Similarly, the prevalent post-modern Gnosticisms that Tolkien had rejected aim to overthrow the very notion of an omnipotent and omniscient creator and replace him with the latest, fashionable idolatry. For McAleer these attempts are vanity—an effort to make a universe in our image instead of submitting ourselves to the true universe over which God is supreme. As for politics, McAleer’s book aims to place Tolkien’s views on war within a particular conservative political camp, and there are many areas of support for this project. It is indisputable that Tolkien was conservative in many ways, a devout Catholic. McAleer’s expertise on other philosophers of war, particularly other Catholic philosophers, is this book’s strength. He sees Tolkien’s ideas on war as aligned with English writers like G. K. Chesterton, Evelyn Waugh, and Halford Mackinder as well as European conservatives such as Max Scheler, Carl Schmitt, Erich Pryzwara, Aurel Kolnai, and Eric Voegelin. The problem with this approach is that it flattens the strange and interesting views that Tolkien seems to have held. If we identify Tolkien as a Catholic and a Tory, must we find alignment between him and other Catholic Tories? In many places the connections McAleer observes seem forced or superficial. Regarding war, it is likely that Tolkien’s views are far more idiosyncratic than McAleer’s book suggests. This failure to account for Tolkien’s idiosyncrasies becomes more pronounced when McAleer begins to apply the theory behind his cultural observations. He writes, “Tolkien thought civilization and war matters of aesthetics, that vanity provokes war and that what strives against vanity, in the very prosecution of war, is a better accounting of beauty” (McAleer xii). The implications of such a claim are of central importance to McAleer’s project. Shrouded in philosophical terms is lurking something potentially troubling. Can we avoid the conclusion that McAleer suggests that Tolkien thought war was beautiful when it “stives against vanity”? The abstractions contained with such a claim would need to be grounded by the particulars of Tolkien’s world, and this is where McAleer’s argument is at its weakest. While he does provide some grounding for these claims, the connections play out on a broad narrative level, sometimes citing Tolkien’s writing and other times citing Peter Jackson’s film direction when it suits the claim more fully (121, 132). This makes McAleer’s literary analysis feel incomplete. One example of this incomplete analysis can be found in chapter 4, “Dignity and the Uruk-hai.” In this chapter, McAleer wants to present

Matthew Bardowell 53 German philosopher Carl Schmitt’s idea of political life, which begins with “the friend-enemy distinction” (130). To be truly political, according to Schmitt, is to be aware of “existential threat[s]” (103). McAleer argues that Tolkien makes Frodo aware of just this sort of existential threat when he learns that Gollum has revealed the names “Baggins” and “Shire” to Sauron (131). Gollum has placed the Shire in extreme danger, and this realization politicizes Frodo in the Schmittian sense. McAleer cites the passage in The Fellowship of the Ring in which Frodo recognizes Gollum as an enemy and declares that his enemy deserves death (131). For McAleer, what is important in this scene is that it marks a flashpoint moment of politicization for the Shire, a beginning which is brought to fruition in The Return of the King when Sam becomes Mayor. Is this moment an illustration of Schmitt’s friend-enemy distinction? Perhaps it is. But this observation seems far less relevant than Gandalf’s rebuke of Frodo when he hopes to hand his enemy a death sentence. McAleer does not mention that Gandalf rebukes Frodo at all. If the import of this scene is really a burgeoning political value system arising within Frodo, why would Gandalf reject it as soon as it is expressed? It would have been interesting to see McAleer address Gandalf’s words, but ignoring them seems negligent. In this way, McAleer uses Tolkien’s narrative piecemeal to illustrate Schmitt, but he does not succeed in allowing Schmitt to illuminate Tolkien. McAleer’s interest in linking Tolkien to a philosopher like Carl Schmitt is another instance of what makes this book’s methodology feel at times awkward. McAleer compares Tolkien and Schmitt because of what he views as their shared ideas about land (88-9). Schmitt sees land as constituting a people with a shared language, set of boundaries, and seasonal rhythms (89). According to McAleer, Tolkien sets up the Shire along similar terms. Of course, Schmitt notion of land also aligned with the theories of ethnos used by the Nazis. Whether Schmitt was aligned with the Nazis in a nominal or principled sense, his philosophical writings enabled and gave intellectual cover to some of the worst atrocities of the holocaust. The basis for comparison to Tolkien seems quite shallow indeed. McAleer distinguishes between these men by calling Schmitt a “value minimalist” and Tolkien and “value maximalist” (90). But this distinction is not robust enough to address the fundamental differences that might make Schmitt’s political theory a poor pairing with Tolkien’s work. It is not the case, however, that such mismatches occur throughout the book as a whole. When McAleer discusses Carl von Clausewitz’s notion of “absolute war,” he does a wonderful job of showing how Tolkien’s work rejects the myth of “total war” (xviii). His analysis of absolute war, with its apocalyptic vision of reality, sheds light on aspects of modern life, and he rightly shows Tolkien’s work as an antidote to this apocalyptic outlook on the world. McAleer’s book is a work of philosophy, not a work of literary analysis. His project is strongest when it addresses political theories of war that were swirling around in the twentieth century, but it does not do as

54 Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal much to illumine Tolkien’s work as one might hope. McAleer is certainly at his best when discussing the political background of Tolkien’s time as well as the true war theorists on whom he is so clearly an expert. After reading, I am not convinced that Tolkien would have felt at home in their company. Tolkien once remarked that he identified with the hobbits on a personal level. He writes, “I am in fact a Hobbit (in all but size). I like gardens, trees and unmechanized farmlands; I smoke a pipe, and like good plain food [...] I like, and even dare to wear in these dull days, ornamental waistcoats” (Tolkien, Letters 288-89). For his time, Tolkien seems to have been his own sort of man, not often following the intellectual trends of his age. His own ideas, like his style, so often stood apart from his contemporaries. In our interest to trace his philosophical development, we should take care to let him stand out. Why would we want to deny him his ornamental waistcoats? Works Cited Croft, Janet. War in the Works of J. R. R. Tolkien. Praeger, 2004. Tolkien, J. R. R. The Letters of J. R. R. Tolkien. Edited by Humphrey Carpenter with the assistance of Christopher Tolkien. Houghton Mifflin, 2000.

C. Clark Triplett 55

[Book Review] Trueman, Carl R. Crisis of Confidence: Reclaiming the Historic Faith in a Culture Consumed with Individualism and Identity. Crossway, 2024. ISBN 078-1-4335-9001-6. 216 pages, $27.99.

Cover image: Crisis of Confidence by Carl R. Trueman. Image reproduced for purposes of review and commentary. Reviewed by C. Clark Triplett Carl R. Trueman’s book Crisis of Confidence is a slightly updated version of his earlier work, The Creedal Imperative (2012), and deepens the arguments for the place of confessional Christianity. It is also, to some extent, an update of his earlier work, The Rise and Triumph of the Modern Self (2020), which examined modern cultural trends involved in the search for identity. In the new book, he attempts to make the case that confessions and standards are biblical and consistent with the historical practices of the church. In many ways, this is two books in one. The first is a historical and theological defense of creeds and confessions. The second is a cultural critique of what Trueman calls expressive individualism, which leads to a reliance on a person’s inner self. These two areas of discourse reinforce each other because they relate to the argument made

56 Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal by some evangelical churches, sometimes quite forcefully, that there is “no creed but the Bible.” Trueman is an English Christian theologian and church historian born in Dudley, England. He studied at St. Catharine’s College, Cambridge University, earning a Master of Arts degree in Classics, and received a Doctor of Philosophy in Church History from the University of Aberdeen. He was professor of Historical Theology at Westminster Theological Seminary in Glenside, Pennsylvania, and then, in 2018, moved to Grove City College in Grove City, Pennsylvania, where he teaches in the Department of Biblical and Religious Studies. He has written several other books on church history and contemporary cultural studies, including John Owen: Reformed Catholic, Renaissance Man and Strange New World: How Thinkers and Activists Redefined Identity and Sparked the Sexual Revolution. He is also a contributing editor at First Things and a fellow at the Ethics and Public Policy Center in Washington, D.C. At the heart of Crisis of Confidence is a basic question that is often raised by many Christians: Why should Christians be concerned about creeds and confessions? The answer, which is the subject of this book, is that Christians cannot preserve the biblical faith simply by insisting, as many evangelical Protestants do, that there is “no creed but the Bible.” Throughout the book, Trueman makes it clear that he does not regard the Bible and confessions as competing authorities. Rather, he argues that creeds and confessions are “carefully formulated summaries of biblical teaching” (31). Their purpose is to help the church understand, preserve, teach, confess, and transmit the historic faith. Confessionalism simply attempts to summarize Christian teaching with public statements that are then open to discussion, debate, and accountability. “A confession is a positive statement of belief, but in making a positive statement of belief, it inevitably excludes those who disagree with its content” (31). This is the case regardless of the denomination or creed. Trueman cogently argues that the historical rootedness of the Christian faith is especially necessary in times of cultural disruption. He believes the church suffers when it approaches Christianity as though every generation must begin the task of defining the faith anew. The historic church, to some extent, has already wrestled with many of the questions that confront the contemporary church, and the creeds and confessions represent the accumulated wisdom and arguments that emerged from those struggles. This does not mean, however, that every historical tradition or formulation is beyond criticism or revision. Trueman acknowledges the possibility, and, at times, the necessity of revising or supplementing confessions. The history of the Anglican Book of Common Prayer provides an example, with significant revisions beginning in 1552 and continuing throughout its history, as well as further revisions within the Episcopal Church in America. Such revisions demonstrate that the church has continually sought to interpret Scripture more clearly while remaining faithful to its authority. Thus, for Trueman, historical rootedness does not mean an uncritical adherence to the past; rather, it

C. Clark Triplett 57 provides the church with a foundation from which it can address new challenges without abandoning the faith it has received. As previously mentioned, one of the key themes running throughout the book, intertwined with the arguments about creeds and confessions, is the problem of expressive individualism in modern culture. American evangelicalism, in particular, can sometimes place so much emphasis on a personal relationship or personal faith that the Christian community is completely ignored as an essential component of the gospel. Trueman argues that Christianity has never been merely an individual enterprise. Christians are linked to other Christians as well as to a historical community. Historic creeds provide a way of connecting contemporary belief with the faith of previous generations. This historical consciousness provides humility about one’s own knowledge and reminds Christians that personal experience is not the ultimate measure of theological truth. So, Trueman connects his arguments about the importance of the confessions of the church with his cultural analysis developed in his books The Rise and Triumph of the Modern Self and Strange New World. His analysis is that current views of the development of the self place a primary emphasis on personal desires, which then become the primary authority concerning the human person. However, the historic Christian faith offers a radically different vision of the self. Human beings are created by God, they exist within relationships, and they belong to communities. This means that they are not infinitely malleable. Trueman argues that these differences are not merely disagreements over isolated moral rule; instead, they represent competing philosophies of what human beings really are in their existence. Christian identity is grounded in God’s creation. Expressive individualism, on the other hand, is grounded in the individual’s internal sense of self. An important argument that Trueman makes is that the rejection of creeds does not eliminate creedal thinking. Any particular church may say that it has no creed but the Bible, but the same church will inevitably have strong convictions about baptism, communion, the Trinity, salvation, and church government. The difference is that an explicit confession is public, accountable, and open to debate, whereas an unwritten system of doctrines can easily escape critical examination. This is Trueman’s most compelling argument for creeds and exposes an internal contradiction within anti-creedal positions. Underlying his concern about anti-creedalism is Trueman’s view that expressive individualism is encroaching on the life of the church. When such individualism becomes the ultimate authority, it places the individual at the center of theological interpretation and makes the individual the final arbiter of truth. However, when Christians confess the Apostles’ Creed, the Nicene Creed, or the Heidelberg Catechism, they are acknowledging that they are part of a community of believers that stretches across the centuries. Such confession becomes an expression of

58 Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal humility, reminding Christians that faith is not something they have personally invented. Trueman offers a compelling critique of individualism and theological minimalism, both of which he believes have weakened contemporary Christianity. His arguments are persuasive and substantial, and his analysis of contemporary culture in terms of consumerism, antiauthoritarianism, and expressive individualism demonstrates a deep understanding of the ways in which modern cultural assumptions have affected the church. His diagnosis is neither simplistic nor facile. Nevertheless, several questions emerge from his argument that may warrant further study. These questions do not fundamentally challenge the thesis of Crisis of Confidence; rather, they concern several issues that Trueman either does not address directly or does not develop as fully as his larger argument might suggest. Three questions seem particularly important. First, why were historic creeds and confessions necessary in the first place, and what can an understanding of their historical development contribute to their contemporary use? Second, are there accounts of individual development and the formation of the self that, properly understood, might be compatible with a Christian account of human personhood rather than being inherently opposed to it? Finally, does the evidence justify treating non-confessional evangelical churches generally as particularly susceptible to the individualism and relativism that Trueman critiques? These questions become especially important when considering the application of ancient theological formulations to contemporary Christian life. Doctrinal standards and confessions can sometimes appear to be abstract or static formulations, seemingly remote from the ordinary experiences and concerns of Christians. Indeed, one possible reason that some churches have abandoned formal creeds may be that they have come to regard them as disconnected from the practical realities of Christian faith. Yet the historic creeds may become considerably more intelligible and compelling when Christians understand the concrete circumstances that gave rise to them. An appreciation of their historical and existential origins can demonstrate that confessions were never merely collections of abstract theological propositions but were responses to particular questions, controversies, crises, and practices within the life of the church. Anthony Thiselton's The Hermeneutics of Doctrine provides a useful framework for exploring this issue. Thiselton argues that Christian doctrine cannot be adequately understood apart from the concrete forms of life in which it emerged and was practiced. As he puts it, doctrine “relates to the everyday particularities of human life and exists only in relation to concrete forms of life” (3). His approach suggests that the history of Christian doctrine is not simply the history of intellectual systems imposed upon the church but also the history of communities attempting to articulate their faith in response to real-life circumstances. Thiselton's discussion of the work of New Testament scholar Oscar Cullmann is especially relevant. Early Christians required common

C. Clark Triplett 59 summaries of faith not merely because they desired theological uniformity but because concrete circumstances demanded a recognizable and authoritative expression of what the church believed. Persecution, baptismal practice, exorcism, theological controversy, and disputes with heretics and unbelievers all contributed to the development of increasingly formal expressions of Christian belief. Simple affirmations such as “I believe that Jesus is the Son of God” eventually developed into more comprehensive baptismal formulations. As Thiselton observes, “By the third century a series of baptismal questions had been formulated to which the response began a development that culminated in the Apostle's Creed” (10). This history is significant for Trueman's argument because it suggests that creeds themselves emerged from the interaction between doctrine and lived experience. Early confessions frequently began as firstperson, self-involving affirmations of faith before developing into more comprehensive and publicly recognized formulations. What eventually became an authoritative third-person confession of the church therefore had its origins, at least in part, in concrete acts of believing, confessing, worshiping, and responding to particular challenges. The development of creeds can thus be understood not simply as the movement from personal faith to institutional doctrine but as the church's attempt to make its faith publicly intelligible, accountable, and transmissible. This perspective potentially strengthens Trueman's argument for the recovery of confessional Christianity. If contemporary Christians are to recover the historic creeds, it may be important not simply to affirm their authority but also to recover the historical reasons for which they were formulated. Such an approach could prevent confessions from becoming merely static doctrinal formulas and could instead demonstrate their continuing relationship to the concrete questions and challenges of Christian existence. In this respect, a more explicit account of the historical development of the creeds might make Trueman's case even more compelling. A second question concerns Trueman's treatment of individualism. His critique of expressive individualism is persuasive insofar as it identifies the tendency of contemporary culture to construct identity primarily through autonomous self-definition and personal desire. Yet the rejection of expressive individualism does not necessarily require the rejection of every account of individual differentiation or personal autonomy. There may be forms of individualism or, perhaps more precisely, accounts of individuation and personal identity that are compatible with a Christian understanding of the human person. Here the work of object-relations and developmental theorists such as Margaret Mahler and D. W. Winnicott may provide an interesting point of dialogue with Trueman's argument. Their theories suggest that the development of an individual self is neither an inherently pathological process nor a simple act of autonomous self-creation. Rather, psychological differentiation takes place through relationships with

60 Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal parents and other significant persons. The paradox is that the individual becomes capable of genuine separateness precisely through relationships of attachment, dependence, and care. Mahle’s account of separation-individuation is particularly relevant. In The Psychological Birth of the Human Infant, she describes the infant's movement from an early state of psychological symbiosis toward an increasingly differentiated sense of self. The developing child gradually recognizes a distinction between self and other while continuing to depend upon significant relationships for security and emotional development. Individuation, therefore, does not mean simply becoming autonomous or independent. It involves developing a distinct identity while internalizing sustaining relationships that make such differentiation possible. Winnicott develops a related account in his discussion of the transitional object and the child’s movement between subjective experience and shared external reality. A transitional object—famously represented by such things as a blanket or stuffed animal allows the child to maintain a psychological connection with the parent during periods of physical absence. It occupies an intermediate space between the child's inner world and external reality and contributes to the gradual development of a secure and differentiated self. As the child develops, the security provided by significant relationships becomes increasingly internalized, enabling the child to encounter the wider world with greater independence. Such developmental theories raise an important question for Trueman's account. What if the alternative to expressive individualism is not simply a more communal understanding of the self but a theological account in which individuality itself is understood as relationally constituted? From a Christian perspective, one might argue that the human person becomes most fully an individual not through radical autonomy but through relationships with parents, community, neighbor, and ultimately God. Such an approach would retain Trueman's critique of the autonomous self while allowing for a positive account of individuality and differentiation. There may even be theological possibilities here that deserve further exploration. If human beings develop a differentiated sense of self through relationships of trust, dependence, and love, Christian theology might interpret this process in relation to the human person's relationship with God. The parent who provides a secure foundation for the child's emergence as a distinct person could, by analogy, become a theological point of departure for understanding God as the source and sustainer of human identity. Such a model would not treat God as a rival to human individuality but as the ground in which genuine individuality becomes possible. The Christian alternative to expressive individualism, therefore, might not be the elimination of the individual but a recovery of the relational self. This possibility does not invalidate Trueman's critique. Rather, it suggests that his argument might be enriched by distinguishing more

C. Clark Triplett 61 carefully between autonomous self-construction and legitimate human individuation. The former may indeed be fundamentally at odds with Christian anthropology; the latter may actually be an essential dimension of becoming the person God created one to be. A final question concerns Trueman's characterization of nonconfessional evangelical Christianity. His critique raises a legitimate concern: churches that reject formal creeds are not thereby exempt from the cultural pressures of individualism, consumerism, or theological fragmentation. Nevertheless, it may be necessary to distinguish between the absence of a formal confession and the absence of confessional theology. The fact that an evangelical church does not subscribe formally to a historic creed does not necessarily mean that it is theologically individualistic, relativistic, or doctrinally minimalistic. Many evangelical churches without formal confessions continue to affirm doctrines that are deeply rooted in the historic Christian tradition, including biblical authority, the Trinity, the deity of Christ, the bodily resurrection, salvation by grace, and the centrality of Christian teaching. Their failure to employ formal confessional documents may therefore represent a different ecclesial or historical approach to articulating orthodoxy rather than an abandonment of orthodoxy itself. The more precise criticism, then, may concern degrees and forms of individualism rather than a simple division between confessional and nonconfessional Christianity. Some evangelical churches may indeed emphasize personal conversion, individual salvation, and a “personal relationship with Jesus” in ways that inadequately articulate the corporate and ecclesial dimensions of the gospel. But this does not necessarily mean that such churches have succumbed wholesale to expressive individualism. The distinction is important because an emphasis on personal faith is not itself un-Christian. Christianity necessarily involves personal faith, personal repentance, and personal commitment. The problem arises when the personal dimension of faith becomes detached from the communal, historical, sacramental, and ecclesial dimensions of Christian existence. There is also a corresponding danger on the confessional side. The possession of a formal creed or confession does not automatically guarantee theological faithfulness. A church can affirm a historic confession formally while failing to embody its theological vision in worship, community, discipleship, or ethical practice. Trueman acknowledges this danger, but the question arguably deserves greater attention because it complicates any simple opposition between confessional Christianity and contemporary evangelicalism. Confessional documents can provide an important safeguard against theological individualism, but they cannot by themselves guarantee that a church will avoid the cultural forces Trueman identifies. The more fundamental issue, therefore, may not be whether a church possesses a formal confession but how a church receives, embodies, and transmits the Christian faith as a communal and historical

62 Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal reality. Formal confessions can serve this purpose exceptionally well, particularly by making a church's theological commitments explicit and publicly accountable. Yet the absence of a formal confession does not necessarily mean that a congregation lacks such commitments, just as the presence of a confession does not necessarily mean that those commitments are faithfully embodied. These questions do not substantially diminish Trueman's central argument. Indeed, they may help clarify and strengthen it. His case for recovering the historic faith is most persuasive when confessions are understood not as detached theological artifacts but as the accumulated testimony of a historical community attempting to confess the gospel amid concrete challenges. Likewise, his critique of expressive individualism becomes more compelling when it is distinguished from a rejection of individuality itself and when the Christian alternative is understood as a relational account of the person. Finally, his criticism of contemporary evangelicalism may be most convincing when it avoids treating the distinction between confessional and non-confessional churches as absolute. The larger contribution of Crisis of Confidence is therefore not necessarily that it resolves every question surrounding the relationship between tradition, individuality, and contemporary Christianity. Rather, Trueman succeeds in forcing the church to reconsider assumptions that have too often gone unquestioned. The questions that remain are consequently not reasons to dismiss his argument but invitations to carry it further: How can historic confessions once again become living expressions of Christian faith? What kind of account of the human person can resist autonomous self-construction without denying legitimate individuality? And how can the church distinguish between the absence of formal confessions and the actual presence of theological individualism? These questions point toward areas in which Trueman's argument might be extended and developed in future theological and ecclesiological work. Works Cited Mahler, Margaret S., The Psychological Birth of the Human Infant: Symbiosis and Individuation. Basic Books, 1975. Thistleton, Anthony C. The Hermeneutics of Doctrine. Eerdmans, 2007. Winnicott, D. W. Human Nature. Schocken Books, 1988.

John J. Han 63

[Short Story] “Record of the Animal Conference” (1908): A Short Story by An Guk-seon Translated from the Korean and notes by John J. Han

A photograph of An Guk-seon as a political prisoner under Japanese colonial rule. Translator’s Introductory Notes An Guk-seon (안국선, 安國善, 1878-1926) was a Korean short story writer, nonfiction writer, and government official whose career spanned the final years of the Joseon dynasty and the early period of Japanese colonial rule. Born on December 5, 1878, in what is now Gosan-myeon, Anseong, Gyeonggi Province, he received a government-sponsored education in Japan. In 1895, he entered the regular course at Keio Gijuku in Tokyo and graduated the following year. He then studied political science at Tokyo Senmon Gakko, the predecessor of Waseda University,

64 Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal graduating in 1899. After returning to Korea, however, An became involved in a political case connected with Park Yeong-hyo and spent several years in prison and exile. Sentenced to life imprisonment in 1904 and exiled to Jindo, he was released in March 1907. After his release, An pursued both a government career and literary activities. He participated in several political and educational organizations and was appointed an official in the Imperial Household Property Settlement Bureau in 1907. He subsequently served in the Ministry of Finance, becoming a secretary in 1908 and head of the National Treasury Division of the Tax Bureau in 1909. During this period, he also established himself as a writer. His best-known work, “Record of the Animal Conference” (Geumsuhoeuirog, 금수회의록, 禽獸會議錄), was published in 1908. Written as an allegorical debate among animals, the story criticizes the moral failings of human society. The colonial authorities designated the work a banned book in 1909. An later published Gongjinhoe (The Exhibition, 공진회, 共進會) in 1915, a collection of three short stories that is often regarded as the first modern Korean short-story collection. Two additional stories originally intended for the collection were removed by order of the police authorities. An’s later life was closely intertwined with the institutions of Japanese colonial rule. From 1911 to 1913, he served as county magistrate of Cheongdo in North Gyeongsang Province, and in 1912 he received a medal commemorating the annexation of Korea. After leaving government service, he continued to participate in economic, social, and political organizations, including groups that promoted Korean-Japanese cooperation and colonial-era autonomy movements. His activities in the 1920s included participation in organizations whose goals ranged from economic development and cultural exchange to cooperation with the Japanese colonial government. Thus, An’s life presents a complex intersection of literary achievement, political involvement, government service, and colonial collaboration. He died in Seoul on July 8, 1926, at the age of forty-seven, leaving behind “Record of the Animal Conference,” Gongjinhoe, and several works on politics, diplomacy, and public speaking. “Record of the Animal Conference” is an allegorical short story in which the narrator dreams of attending a conference of animals who denounce the moral failings of humankind. The work consists of a series of speeches delivered by eight animals, each exposing a particular human vice, especially in the context of Confucian Korea in the early twentieth century. The crow condemns filial impiety, the fox denounces hypocrisy and collaboration with Japanese imperialism, the frog criticizes narrowmindedness, the bee rebukes the inconsistency between words and deeds, the crab censures those who submit passively to oppression, the fly ridicules sycophancy and the pursuit of selfish gain, the tiger attacks the greed and brutality of corrupt officials, and the mandarin duck condemns sexual immorality. By placing these moral indictments in the mouths of animals, An Guk-seon satirizes the corruption of contemporary Korean

John J. Han 65 society while urging readers to repent and embrace a life grounded in Christian ethics. The short story concludes with a call to repentance, affirming that salvation remains possible for those who heed the teachings of Christ. Published by the Hwangseong Book Association (a Seoul-based booksellers’ association) in 1908, shortly after the 1905 Eulsa Treaty (Japan-Korea Treaty) and amid Japan’s accelerating encroachment on Korean sovereignty, “Record of the Animal Conference” reflects the political crisis and moral uncertainty of the late Korean Empire. Through animal allegory, An Guk-seon criticizes Japanese imperial aggression, official corruption, social injustice, and the moral decline of the nation while avoiding direct political polemic. It is widely regarded as Korea’s first Christian short story. Converted to Christianity while imprisoned through the influence of Methodist missionaries such as Henry G. Appenzeller and Dalzell A. Bunker, An drew inspiration from missionary literature, particularly the Korean translation (1895) of John Bunyan’s The Pilgrim’s Progress. The dream framework, biblical allusions, emphasis on repentance and salvation, and Christian moral worldview distinguish the work from traditional Korean fables. At the same time, the story incorporates Confucian virtues such as filial piety, fraternal harmony, and marital fidelity, presenting Christianity not as a rejection of Korean ethical traditions but as their spiritual fulfillment in an era of national crisis. ___________________ 1. Preface (序言) Lifting my head, I gazed up at the heavens, where the sun, moon, and stars had not lost their eternal radiance through the ages. Opening my eyes and looking down upon the earth, I saw that rivers, seas, and mountains had not changed their ancient forms. In which spring do flowers fail to bloom, and in which autumn do leaves fail to fall? The universe remains constant through countless generations, yet why is it that human affairs differ so greatly between past and present? Looking at people in the world today, I find them sorrowful, pitiful, and worthy of sighing and lamentation. Whether we listen to the words of the ancients or examine history, we see that people of former times possessed conscience and followed the principles of Heaven, drawing near to God. But in the present age, human culture has collapsed: morality has disappeared, righteousness has vanished, shame and integrity have been lost, and loyalty and steadfastness have all but disappeared. Everyone is sinking into filthy and murky waves, unable to find their way out, and the whole world has become corrupt. As a result, people can no longer distinguish right from wrong. Notorious bandits such as Docheok1, infamous for their evil deeds, ride openly in broad daylight into the royal palace, and no one finds it strange. Meanwhile, virtuous men like Yan Hui2 live in narrow alleys,

66 Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal surviving on a single box of rice and a ladle of water, unable to endure hardship, and yet no one pities them. Alas! The good and the evil have been reversed, and loyalty and treachery have been exchanged. In such a world that has strayed from the principles of Heaven, lacking virtue and righteousness, filthy, dark, ignorant, and wicked—worse even than beasts—what shall we do? As one of humankind, I have long been troubled by the corruption of human society and often read the writings of the sages to model myself on their minds. One day, while I was sleeping soundly in my study under the spring breeze, I was overcome by a pleasant drowsiness and fell into a dream. Unable to restrain my wandering delight, I took up my bamboo staff and straw sandals and followed the green waters in search of green mountains. After traveling some distance, I arrived at a place where strange flowers and beautiful grass grew thickly, where the sound of a stream rang clearly, and where there was no trace of human presence. Amid white clouds and green forests, I saw a wooden signboard hanging. Looking closely, I saw five large characters: “Hall of the Beast Assembly,” and beside it a notice reading “Matters Concerning the Critique of Humanity.” Another placard announced: “Whatever exists between Heaven and Earth, if it has an opinion, it may speak freely; those who wish to attend may do so freely.” There I saw gathered all kinds of beings—beasts of the land, birds of the air, insects, fish, grasses, trees, and even stones. As I reflected upon this, I thought that among all things under Heaven, humans are the most noble and spiritually endowed. They assist in the transformation of Heaven and Earth and govern all creatures on behalf of Heaven. Thus, when a person behaves wickedly, they are called beast-like; and when a person is foolish and inactive, they are insulted as being like plants or trees. In other words, beasts and plants are considered lowly, while humans are noble; beasts and plants are considered ignorant, while humans are enlightened. Yet now the world has been turned upside down: beasts and plants are about to criticize the moral corruption of human beings. At this thought, I was filled with shock, shame, anguish, and indignation so intense that I stood frozen, unable even to close my open mouth. Notes [1] Docheok: Dodao/Daozhi, the legendary Chinese bandit. [2] Yan Hui (顔回): Confucius’ famously virtuous disciple. 2. Purpose of the Meeting (開會趣旨) Suddenly, something from behind pushed me forward. “Come in quickly. It’s time,” it said. In its haste, I followed and took a seat in the audience section. Various creatures—beasts of the land, birds of the air, insects, fish, and all

John J. Han 67 kinds of beings—kept pouring in and filling the hall, standing and sitting so densely that there was hardly any space left. Though the gathered beings were of many shapes and colors, the seating arrangement was orderly and solemn. As if the meeting were about to begin, the sound of a gavel rang sharply. Then a certain creature, seemingly the chairman, rose to the podium. It wore a large golden crown that glittered brilliantly on its head and an iridescent robe of many colors. After bowing once, it stood with solemn dignity and composed bearing, and addressed the assembled members: Ladies and gentlemen, I have invited you today to convene this unprecedented assembly in history, and I wish to state briefly the purpose of this meeting. I ask that you listen attentively. This world we inhabit did not exist from the beginning. It was created through divine transformation by the most holy and almighty God. The Creator of all things is called God, the master of all principles. He created the world and all beings within it, bringing forth every kind of existence into being. The purpose of this creation was to manifest His glory and to allow all living things to receive His gracious blessings and attain eternal happiness. Therefore, all things in the world—whether human beings, animals, or plants—are equally precious, with no inherent distinction between noble and lowly. How could there be anything fundamentally high or low among them? All have arisen by receiving the vital energy of Heaven and Earth and live according to their original principles. Thus, each should follow its inherent nature and fulfill its proper duty according to the will of God, enjoying its own happiness on one hand while manifesting the glory of God on the other. Among these beings, humans were created specially by God and endowed with a soul and moral conscience, distinguishing them from all other creatures. Therefore, humans should especially obey the will of God, uphold the Way of Heaven, and manifest divine glory through good deeds and virtuous conduct. Yet when we observe the behavior of people today, we see that their actions are entirely wicked and unjust. Far from glorifying God, they defile His glory and repay His grace with wrongdoing. Some flatter foreigners only to obtain official positions, caring not whether their country collapses or their compatriots perish—traitors indeed. Some deceive their rulers and harm the people, bringing ruin to the nation. Parents fail to love their children, and children fail to serve their parents with filial piety. Siblings fight and harm one another over property, and husbands and wives fail to live in harmony due to licentious thoughts. There are many such people among humankind. If even angels who once served God could fall from grace and become demons through evil deeds, how much more, then, can be said of human beings? In the beginning, when humans were created, they were given souls and moral virtue and were granted the privilege of being the

68 Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal noblest among all creatures. But since they have abandoned this dignity and lost their original nature, they may still retain human form, yet they can no longer be said to possess the true status of humanity as the most noble of beings. You, the animals and plants, though considered lowly by humans, follow the laws established by God: those who crawl, crawl; those who fly, fly; those who dwell in burrows do not intrude upon nests; those who nest do not take over burrows. They are born in spring and die in autumn; they emerge in summer and retreat in winter. All follow the principles of Heaven and Earth without deviation. Compared with you, humans are in fact lower and more corrupt, while you may be regarded as higher and more honorable. Yet humans, having lost their proper nature, still arrogantly claim to be the noblest, highest, and most spiritual of beings, despising us. How then can we endure such arrogance? I have therefore convened this meeting with your approval and submitted it to God. The matters to be discussed in this assembly are as follows: First, to clarify and define the responsibilities of human beings. Second, to examine human conduct and judge what is right and wrong. Third, to investigate which among present-day humans still possess the true qualifications of humanity and which do not. By debating these three issues, we shall clarify the relationship between humans and yourselves. If humans persist in their evil ways and refuse to repent, we shall petition God to strip them of the name “human” and instead assign them the title of “second-class demons.” I hope you will embrace this intention and carry out the resolutions of this assembly.” After the chairman finished speaking and returned to his seat, a loud voice suddenly called out from one corner, and a creature stood up and ascended the podium. 3. First Speaker, “Filial Piety in Return” (Crow) Dressed in a frock coat, its entire body pitch-black and its round eyes bright and alert, it took a small sip of water and began its speech: I am a crow. I shall now express my thoughts concerning humankind, focusing briefly on the matter of filial piety in return. Humans claim to be the highest among all creatures, but if one examines their conduct, it is entirely contrary to the principles of Heaven, and there is nothing in it worth praising. If I were to list all their wrongdoings, it would be endless, so I will speak only of their lack of filial piety. The sages of the East long ago said that filial piety is the root of virtue and the foundation of all conduct, and that it governs the world. The teachings of Christianity also command children to honor their parents. Thus, filial piety is a natural duty that children ought to fulfill.

John J. Han 69 We crows, for our part, bring food back to nourish our parents and repay their boundless care with the utmost devotion. We uphold the natural order established by God and pass down this family tradition from generation to generation without change. For this reason, the poet Bai Juyi3 once called us the “Confucius among birds,” and the Bencao Gangmu4 refers to us as “kind birds.” “Confucius among birds”5 refers to Confucius, renowned for his filial devotion, while “kind birds” means affectionate birds—those who love their parents and are loved in return. Such is the law of God. We follow this law without fail, yet humans today, though they speak as if they are all filial, are consumed by wine, lust, and frivolous pleasures, disobeying their parents and quarreling among siblings over property, thereby breaking their parents’ hearts. They care only for themselves and neglect their parents even when they are starving. Women, once they gain a little learning or pride, become arrogant, forget the virtues of gentleness and obedience, and treat their in-laws as though they were ignorant beings—or even enemies. Thus, filial piety, the foundation of all moral conduct, has disappeared from human society more than ever before. What more needs to be said? Since we are by nature devoted to filial piety, when we encounter truly filial people, we are moved to joy and assist them. We helped the noble Laolaizi6 bring joy to his parents throughout the day, and we gathered around the hat of Zengzi,7 preserving his name for posterity. Moreover, we have performed many deeds recorded in history. When we fly down in flocks to the fields, we do so to eliminate insects that harm the crops, yet humans foolishly think we are damaging the grain. However, in 1874, an American ornithologist named Pierce dissected 2,258 crows and discovered that we do not harm crops but instead eat harmful insects. Our visits to fields benefit agriculture rather than harm it. Our cawing at night is not meaningless either. When laws are unjust or when people are suffering, and disasters loom over the world, we cry out in warning so that humans may awaken, correct their faults, and restore peace. In Jiangsu’s Hanshan Temple,8 when a bell was struck on a frosty night under a setting moon, we pecked at it with our beaks, repaying the kindness of one who once saved us from death. When Emperor Xiaowu of the Han dynasty,9 at the age of nine, fled after his parents were killed in Wang Mang’s rebellion10 and lost his way at dusk, we guided him. When Crown Prince Dan of Yan11 was held hostage in the Qin state, we turned our heads white to help him return home. When Duke Wen of Jin 12 set Mount Mianshan13 afire in search of Jie Zitui,14 we surrounded the smoke and protected him from harm. Later, people built a hall called “Grateful Swallows Pavilion”15 on that mountain in our honor. The statesman Yi Yibu16 of the Tang dynasty wrote poems about planting trees in the forest to honor us. In Aesop’s17 fables, we were rewarded for dropping stones into

70 Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal a jar, and in Franklin’s18 stories, we were praised for drinking from a bottle. Our deeds are thus many. Yet humans, hearing our cries, interpret them as omens of either good or ill at their own convenience. In truth, whether fortune is good or bad has nothing to do with us. It depends entirely on the minds of those who hear us. When humans fall ill with plague or epidemic and are on the verge of death, they blame our cries rather than their own ignorance of medicine and hygiene. Thus, they curse us, saying, “Crows bring death.” How utterly ignorant humans are! There is no creature in the world more ignorant than they. Even in the time of Yao and Shun, the phoenix appeared and was regarded as an auspicious sign, while in the time of Wang Mang it appeared and was taken as a bad omen. The same bird was interpreted differently depending on human circumstances. Whether something is seen as auspicious or ominous depends not on the object itself, but on the mind of the observer. Humans, however, do not understand this and instead detest us crows, calling us ill omens. How can one argue with such ignorance? We rise before dawn each morning and fly in all directions in search of food, feeding our parents, building our nests from branches, and catching insects that harm crops—all in accordance with the will of Heaven. At sunset, we return home without fail, never missing our appointed time. Humans, however, sleep until noon and wander about wasting time gambling, drinking, and idle pleasures, neglecting their parents and families. How could such people ever compare them to us crows? Humans prefer comfort without labor and desire to eat and dress well without effort. We, however, live by the principle that one must earn one’s own living. Therefore, we cannot possibly imitate human behavior. I ask you all to recognize that there is no reason for us to be looked down upon by humans. As he finished speaking, applause broke out, and he descended from the podium. From another corner, a soft yet somewhat irritating voice called out to the chairman, and a delicate creature began to ascend the platform with quick, mincing steps—its charming appearance enough to captivate others, yet its coy demeanor hinting at its true nature. Notes [3] Bai Juyi (白居易): The famous Tang-dynasty Chinese poet (772-846). [4] The Bencao Gangmu (本草綱目): Li Shizhen’s sixteenth-century Chinese pharmacological and natural-history work, commonly translated as Compendium of Materia Medica. [5] “Confucius among birds”: An epithet for the crow based on its reputation for filial devotion. [6] Laolaizi (老萊子): A legendary filial son from ancient China, traditionally listed among the Twenty-Four Filial Exemplars (二十四孝).

John J. Han 71 According to the traditional story, he entertained his elderly parents by dressing in colorful clothes and behaving like a child to make them happy. [7] Zengzi (曾子), also called Zeng Shen (曾參): A disciple of Confucius and an important early Confucian thinker known especially for his devotion to his parents. The reference to his hat alludes to a story in which Zengzi’s filial conduct is associated with preserving his reputation and name for later generations. [8] Hanshan Temple (寒山寺): A Buddhist temple in Suzhou, Jiangsu Province, China, famous for its bells and for the poem “A Night Mooring by Maple Bridge” by Zhang Ji. The temple’s association with the poem made its midnight bell a celebrated literary image. [9] Emperor Xiaowu of the Han dynasty (漢孝武帝) — Liu Che (劉徹): The seventh emperor of the Western Han dynasty, who reigned from 141 to 87 BC. [10] Wang Mang (王莽): A Chinese statesman who seized the Han throne and established the short-lived Xin dynasty (AD 9-23). His rule was followed by widespread warfare and the restoration of the Han dynasty. [11] Crown Prince Dan of Yan (燕太子丹): The crown prince of the ancient state of Yan during the Warring States period. He is famous for arranging the assassination attempt on the Qin ruler, Ying Zheng, later known as Qin Shi Huang. [12] Duke Wen of Jin (晉文公) — Chong’er (重耳), ruler of the state of Jin during the Spring and Autumn period (r. 636-628 BC). He is one of the most celebrated rulers in early Chinese history. [13] Mount Mianshan (綿山): A mountain in present-day Shanxi Province associated with the story of Jie Zitui, the loyal follower of Duke Wen of Jin. [14] Jie Zitui (介子推): A legendary loyal retainer of Duke Wen of Jin. According to tradition, he withdrew to Mount Mianshan rather than accept an official position. When the duke set fire to the mountain to force him out, Jie Zitui died in the flames. [15] “Grateful Swallows Pavilion”: A pavilion said to have been built on Mount Mianshan in honor of the birds' supposed role in protecting Jie Zitui. [16] Yi Yibu (伊義甫): A Tang-dynasty statesman and poet mentioned in the source as having written poems commemorating the crows. [17] Aesop: A legendary ancient Greek storyteller traditionally associated with a collection of moral fables. The reference is to the familiar fable in which a crow drops stones into a vessel to raise the water level so that it can drink. [18] Franklin — Benjamin Franklin (1706-1790): American statesman, writer, and publisher. The reference is likely to one of Franklin’s writings or adaptations involving a crow drinking from a bottle.

72 Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal 4. Second Speaker: “The Fox Borrowing the Tiger’s Might” (Fox) The fox stepped up to the podium, coughed once as a courtesan clears her throat before singing a sijo, and then began speaking in a sly, ingratiating voice: I am a fox. It may seem impertinent for one such as I to speak before this honorable assembly, but since I have something to say concerning humankind, I will briefly address the matter of borrowing the tiger’s might. Though my words may lack learning, I ask for your indulgence. From ancient times, humans have called us foxes deceitful and cunning, and when they see someone among themselves who is sly or treacherous, they say that person is “fox-like.” We have long endured such defiled and disgraceful names. Yet in truth, we are not deceitful or cunning at all. It is human beings who are truly deceitful and corrupt. If one compares our behavior with theirs, it would be more appropriate to reverse our names entirely. Humans call us cunning because of a story recorded in The Strategies of the Warring States.19 A tiger once sought to devour all the beasts. It happened to encounter a fox, and the fox said to the tiger, “Heaven has appointed me ruler over all beasts. If you do not believe me, follow me and see how all creatures tremble before me.” The tiger followed the fox, and indeed all the animals fled in fear. The tiger, deceived by the fox’s words, dared not attack. Yet the animals were not afraid of the fox— they were afraid of the tiger behind it. The fox merely borrowed the tiger’s authority to frighten others.20 Humans use this story to condemn us as cunning, but what is wrong with surviving by whatever means one can when one’s life is in danger? The tiger, though called the hero of the mountains, was merely foolish to be deceived. If we deceived it, what wrongdoing is there in that? Yet look at humans today: they ought to rely on the authority of God, but instead they borrow foreign power to protect themselves and obtain office, even betraying their own country and oppressing their compatriots. Are such people any better than us foxes? No, they are far inferior to us. Moreover, in the case of nations, countries use the power of cannons and guns to threaten others, turning them into colonies or protectorates. This is no different from bandits entering a house with swords and guns to rob property and violate women. Nations claim to preserve peace, yet they do not rely on divine authority or moral order; instead, they depend entirely on military force. How, then, is this different from a fox borrowing the tiger’s power to escape death? People also call the nine-tailed fox evil and sinister, but this is a great misunderstanding. Ancient texts say otherwise. In some writings, the nine-tailed fox is considered an auspicious being: in Zam Hak Geo Ryu Seo,21 it is said that when the Way prevails, the nine-tailed fox appears and brings written blessings; in Wang Bao’s Four Men Discussing Virtue,22 it is

John J. Han 73 recorded that King Wen of Zhou23 responded to the nine-tailed fox and thereby brought the eastern barbarians into submission; and in The Classic of Mountains and Seas,24 it is said that in the land of Qingqiu,25 the nine-tailed fox appears when virtue is present. These accounts show that there is no basis for calling us evil or seductive. Humans, however, ignorant as they are, spread false stories that a fox becomes a witch-like woman after living for a thousand years, or that immoral women are reborn as foxes after death. What nonsense! Humans themselves are full of lust and corruption, while we foxes are not. We keep to our own kind and do not mingle indiscriminately with others. Yet humans are endlessly immoral. In some countries, women have even been known to have relations with dogs or horses. Though such cases may be rare, a single spoonful of soup reveals the taste of the whole pot. In recent times, virtue and moral order have disappeared entirely, and the Way of humanity has collapsed. The depravity of human behavior is beyond words. Women of noble households wander about in public, seducing this man and that; courtesans are entertained in government offices; students from prestigious schools visit pleasure quarters; and even children of one’s own blood are sold for a few coins out of greed. When I speak of such things, my very mouth feels defiled. Ah, how filthy, how wicked, how deceitful human beings are! We foxes are not like that. And yet when humans see a cunning person, they call that person a fox. If that is so, then among humans today, how many are not foxes? If they insist on using such names, then from now on they should no longer call themselves humans, but foxes, and call us foxes “humans.” That, I believe, would be the proper order of things. Notes [19] The Strategies of the Warring States (戰國策): A collection of historical anecdotes, speeches, and political strategies from the Warring States period (c. 475-221 BC), traditionally attributed to Liu Xiang (劉向). [20] “The fox borrows the tiger’s authority” (狐假虎威): A traditional Chinese idiom derived from this story. It describes someone who uses another person’s power or authority to intimidate others. [21] Zam Hak Geo Ryu Seo (Korean: 잠학거류서): The name of a fictional book that appears in An’s text. It is not an actual book that can be found in bookstores or libraries. [22] Wang Bao (王褒, c. 90-51 BC): A prominent Western Han poet and writer, best known for works such as Four Men Discussing Virtue (四子講德論), which is preserved in Xiao Tong’s Wenxuan (文選). [23] King Wen of Zhou (周文王): The founder of the Zhou dynasty’s royal house and a major figure in early Chinese tradition. He is traditionally portrayed as a virtuous ruler whose conduct exemplified the Way (道) and whose reign preceded the establishment of the Zhou dynasty. [24] The Classic of Mountains and Seas (山海經): An ancient Chinese compilation of geographic, mythological, and supernatural accounts. It

74 Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal describes strange creatures, distant lands, and legendary peoples and is one of the earliest important sources concerning the nine-tailed fox. [25] Qingqiu (青丘): A legendary region described in The Classic of Mountains and Seas and traditionally associated with the nine-tailed fox. 5. Third Speaker: “A Frog in the Well Talking about the Sea” (Frog) As the fox finished his speech and glanced about with sidelong looks before returning to his seat, another voice called to the chairman. Waddling forward, a frog sprang onto the platform with a single leap. His eyes bulged from his head, his belly was plump, and his body was short and squat. Blinking rapidly and opening and closing his mouth, he began his address: There is no need for me to tell you my name, for you all know who I am. Since I have never ventured beyond the water-parsley marsh, I know little of the wider world. Living beside the narrow-minded, narrowmouthed toad, I have heard a fair amount of the old learning—“Mencius said this, Confucius said that”—but I know very little of the new learning. Nevertheless, I should like to offer a few remarks on the human world under the theme “A Frog in the Well Talking about the Sea.” Human beings are exceedingly arrogant. They proclaim themselves the greatest creatures under heaven and the noblest of all living things. Yet they scarcely understand the affairs of their own country, while waving their arms and making grand speeches, boasting loudly beyond all measure. They mock us frogs with the saying, “A frog in a well cannot discuss the sea.” Indeed, a frog confined to a well knows only that the well is small. Having never seen the sea, he cannot tell whether it is great or small, wide or narrow, long or short, deep or shallow. Yet he does not pretend to know what he has never seen. Human beings, however, possess only narrow understanding. They know nothing of foreign lands, fail to grasp the course of world affairs, yet chatter endlessly as though they knew everything. Even while their own nation collapses around them, they continue uttering stale ideas and empty opinions. Some people do not even understand the affairs of their own country, yet they boast of knowing everything about distant lands they have neither seen nor heard. How absurd and ridiculous! Some years ago, a high official met a foreign diplomat. The diplomat asked, “Since you now serve as Minister of the Interior, do you know the population and the number of households in your country?” The minister stood speechless. Then the diplomat asked again, “You formerly served as Minister of Finance. Do you know the total amount of cultivated land, and the government’s annual revenues and expenditures?”

John J. Han 75 Again, the minister could say nothing. The diplomat finally remarked, “It is lamentable for your country that one born here and serving as one of its highest ministers should know so little about it.” Last year, the Ministry of the Interior of another country instructed every district to survey its real estate holdings. One county magistrate reported, “There is no real estate in this county,” and became the laughingstock of the nation. Such are the people who know absolutely nothing about their own country, whether great matters or small, yet chatter endlessly about Japan, Russia, Europe, and America as though they alone possessed perfect knowledge. It is enough to leave one speechless. The principles of Heaven and Earth are infinite, and none but God, the Lord of all creation, fully knows them. The Analects says that if one sins against Heaven, there is nowhere to turn for help. The commentary explains that Heaven is nothing other than Principle itself. Thus, God is Principle, and God is the Lord of all principles governing the universe. He is the Creator and the sovereign Lord of Heaven and Earth, knowing all their mysteries. But how can man, who is merely one creature among countless others, hope to comprehend them all? If people devoted themselves to study and acquired genuine knowledge, they ought to use it for the benefit of society and for works that bring blessing to the world. Instead, the moment they learn a little more than others, they use their knowledge to conquer foreign lands, oppress other peoples, and invent warships and cannons for wicked purposes. Such nations would almost have been better off had they never been given human souls. Even worse, those who think themselves slightly wiser than others claim to teach their neighbors, yet they harm them. They pretend to guide others while seeking only their own advantage. Some, though ignorant of their own country’s affairs, pretend to be experts in foreign nations. They curry favor with foreigners, deceive their king, betray their country, oppress the people, steal public wealth, and obtain government offices through dishonest means. Calling themselves enlightened, they dress in Western suits, carry walking sticks, smoke cigarettes, wear watches and spectacles, ride rickshaws or bicycles, and behave as though they themselves were foreigners while oppressing their own countrymen. They consider association with foreigners a mark of honor, flatter them shamelessly, presume to instruct others about matters they scarcely understand themselves, and, merely to obtain a salary or an official appointment, become spies for foreign powers, falsely accuse innocent people, and intimidate the simple. Is not their supposed knowledge itself their greatest disease? We frogs keep our proper place. If we dwell in a well, we remain content in a well. If we live in a water-parsley marsh, we keep to the marsh. If we belong to the sea, we remain in the sea. Are we not, then, superior to human beings? (Loud applause.)

76 Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal Furthermore, it is God’s ordinance that every creature’s offspring resemble its parents. Among frogs, children resemble their fathers, and grandchildren resemble their grandfathers. Their appearance and disposition remain the same generation after generation without the slightest deviation. Human children, however, seldom resemble their fathers. Emperor Yao’s26 son was unlike Yao; Emperor Shun’s27 son was unlike Shun. Yu the Great28 and King Tang29 were sages, yet among their descendants arose tyrants such as Jie30 and Zhou.31 King Taejo Wang Geon32 was a great hero, yet descendants such as Wang U33 and Wang Chang34 disgraced his line. Thus, frogs beget frogs, but human beings do not necessarily produce worthy human offspring. Those who live according to the laws of nature need not compare themselves with humankind. If children, unlike their fathers, are to be called the children of the devil, then all human children must surely be so called. Wherever we frogs dwell, we cry out faithfully for the land to which we belong. Yet once a man gains public office, he forms political factions, struggles for power, flatters influential families, extorts money from the people through torture, accepts bribes whenever disputes arise, embezzles public funds, and lives by sucking the lifeblood of the common people. If you asked me to arrest thieves, nearly every government official would end up in prison. As for us, we croak when it is time to croak, leap when it is time to leap, and sleep when it is time to sleep, all in accordance with the order of Heaven and Earth. Yet the gentlemen of France once found our croaking so offensive that they ordered the people to destroy every frog. Before long, a revolutionary movement arose and plunged the nation into turmoil. Where in the world can one find creatures as lawless as human beings? During the Tang dynasty, one poet wrote that frogs seemed to understand the flavor of the Way as they sang from the depths of the lotus ponds. Even people recognize that we possess moral sense. Why, then, should we submit to mankind? The sage Confucius taught that true knowledge consists in admitting what one knows and acknowledging what one does not know. Yet human beings, armed with shallow learning, make deceiving others their chief occupation and pretend to understand everything under heaven. We frogs tell no such lies. Since human beings neither understand God’s order nor cease from doing evil, I believe it would be entirely fitting to strip them, from this day forward, of the honorable name human. His words poured forth with such eloquence that even the famed persuaders Su Qin35 and Zhang Yi36 could scarcely have surpassed him. Having finished, he stepped down from the platform, and at once another speaker called upon the chairman and swiftly mounted the stage.

John J. Han 77 Notes [26] Emperor Yao (堯): A legendary sage ruler of ancient China, traditionally regarded as one of the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors (三皇五帝). He was celebrated for his virtue and wise government. His son, Danzhu (丹朱), was traditionally considered unworthy to succeed him. [27] Emperor Shun (舜): Another legendary sage ruler and one of the Five Emperors. According to tradition, Shun succeeded Yao because of his exceptional virtue rather than through hereditary succession. [28] Yu the Great (大禹): The legendary founder of the Xia dynasty, famous for controlling the great floods that threatened ancient China. He is traditionally celebrated as a model of diligence and public service. [29] King Tang (湯王) — Tang of Shang (商湯): Founder of the Shang dynasty. Traditionally regarded as a virtuous ruler, he overthrew the tyrannical King Jie of Xia. [30] Jie (桀) — King Jie of Xia (夏桀): Traditionally regarded as the last ruler of the Xia dynasty and an archetype of tyranny and moral corruption in Chinese historical tradition. [31] Zhou (紂) — King Zhou of Shang (商紂王): Traditionally regarded as the last ruler of the Shang dynasty and another archetypal tyrant in Chinese tradition. He was overthrown by the Zhou. [32] King Taejo Wang Geon (王建) — Wang Geon (877-943): Founder and first king of the Korean Goryeo dynasty (918–1392). “Taejo” (太祖) means “Great Ancestor” and is his posthumous royal title. [33] Wang U (王禑): The 32nd king of Goryeo (r. 1374–1388). He was the son of King Gongmin and is traditionally remembered as a troubled ruler during the declining years of Goryeo. [34] Wang Chang (王昌) — also known as King Chang of Goryeo (r. 13881389): The last ruler of Goryeo from the royal line descended directly from King Gongmin. He succeeded Wang U but was deposed after a short reign. [35] Su Qin (蘇秦): Famous Warring States-period strategist and diplomat, traditionally known for persuading the six states to form an alliance against Qin. He was renowned for his skill in political persuasion. [36] Zhang Yi (張儀): Influential Warring States-period strategist and diplomat, famous for advocating alliances with Qin and renowned for his exceptional persuasive oratory. 6. Fourth Speaker: “Honeyed Speech, Hidden Blade” (Bee) The bee, with a slender waist and small frame but broad shoulders, stepped onto the platform. Nodding its head slightly, it began to speak in a clear and resonant voice: I am a bee. I will briefly speak on the subject called honeyed speech, hidden blade. Before I begin, I will tell a short story from Western texts.

78 Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal In the beginning, when Heaven and Earth were created, God prepared the Garden of Eden, placed various plants and animals there, and created human beings to live in it. The man was called Adam, and his wife Eve, and they are the ancestors of all people in the world. Humans were created in the image of God, with a mind like His as well. Therefore, humans should never forget that they are, in a sense, God’s children, and they ought to imitate His heart and become supremely virtuous. But Adam and Eve sinned and were expelled from Eden. Our ancestors, the bees, committed no sin and obediently followed God’s will. We turned the flowers of all kinds of plants into our fields, cultivated honey as our livelihood, and lived in joy. From ancient times, we have been better than humans. As time passed, humans became further removed from God. Today, they still appear human in form, but in reality, they have become like jackals and demons—fighting, killing, and devouring one another. The weak become food for the strong; the powerful oppress the weak, stealing others’ rights, deceiving others’ property, seizing land, threatening nations, and destroying them. How can such cruelty even be described? People compare us bees to those with honey in their mouths and daggers in their bellies, but our honey is not to deceive others; it is simply our means of producing food. Our sting is not for unprovoked attack but for legitimate self-defense when we are threatened. Unlike humans, we are not creatures whose mouths are sweet with honey while their bellies hide knives. Human speech itself is constantly changing—sometimes sweet like honey, sometimes bitter like chili, sometimes sharp like a blade, and sometimes poisonous like arsenic. When face to face, they pour out sweet words like honey, but once they turn away, they criticize, curse, and rage. When relations are good, their words are as pleasant as a jar of sesame seeds, but at the slightest dissatisfaction, they shout, “Kill him!” or “He deserves death!” and are ready to destroy others at once. What kind of cruelty is this? So, tell me, everyone, are there truly creatures among animals as vicious as humans? (Applause shakes the hall.) When I hear humans insulting one another, it is unbearable to listen. There are countless vile expressions. Words like “idiot” or “gd— dn”37 are not even the worst. Expressions such as “you cursed wretch”38 or “may you suffer from disease and never recover” pollute the speaker’s own mouth and reveal their corrupt hearts. How can such language exist? Human speech contains very little that is moral or good; instead, it is filled with useless and ugly noise. And yet these beings are called “humans,” the noblest among all creatures? We, though small beings of nature, are not like that. We serve our leaders with loyalty and obey the clear commands of our commanders. Each of us performs our duties diligently, and none of us ever goes hungry. Yet in some countries, people kill their own rulers, commit treason, disobey military orders, and rebel against authority.

John J. Han 79 Ordinary people are lazy and idle, doing no work but wandering aimlessly in search of food, drink, clothing, pleasure, gambling, visits to brothels, and other amusements. As a result, their homes fall into poverty and their nations into hardship. In what way, then, are such humans superior to us bees? A certain Western scholar39 once wrote a poem about us: In morning dew and evening sun We visit each blooming flower Busily gathering nectar And return to our home Half we eat, half we store Saving food for winter When endless joy is ours We praise the grace of Heaven With shining wings and beautiful sound We sing in reverent praise So, tell me—how many truly human beings are there among humans? We have no reason to be judged by them. If I were to speak of human wickedness further, it would never end, but time is limited, so I shall stop here. Notes [37] The profane expression in the original has been minimally obscured for propriety. [38] The expression translated as “you cursed wretch” renders the archaic Korean insult nemil buteul nom (네밀 붙을 놈). Although some scholars trace its origin to a highly obscene expression referring to incest, by the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries it functioned primarily as a conventional vulgar epithet. The present translation preserves its abusive force while avoiding an anachronistically modern English obscenity. [39] The Bee introduces the poem by saying that it was composed by “a certain Western scholar.” No corresponding Western original has been identified. Accordingly, the poem is translated from the Korean text rather than from an extant Western-language source. 7. Fifth Speaker: “The Lord of No Intestines” (Crab) The crab, just as the bee finished speaking and before it had even stepped down from the platform, called out for the chairman and came forward. Its appearance was strange, with a certain brilliance in its eyes, and it spread its arms wide like a strong warrior, shrugging its shoulders as it began to speak:

80 Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal I am a crab. I will speak on the subject called the Lord of No Intestines. The term “lord without intestines” means a creature without a stomach or bowels. In ancient times, Ge Hong, known as Baopuzi,40 referred to our kind as “lords without intestines,”41 which is quite an insult. But tell me—yes, we have no intestines, but do humans truly have them? Among people living in the world today, how many can be said to have a clean and righteous “gut”? Human intestines are in fact rotten, murky, and filthy. They dress themselves in fine silk garments so that they appear elegant on the outside, but they are nothing more than human skin; inside, there is nothing but filth. If one were to cut open a human body with a sharp blade, a foul stench would immediately pour out. Look at governments today—how many of them have anything like a clean intestine? Even though newspapers criticize them, society condemns them, the people resent them, and foreigners ridicule them, they pretend not to know. Can such beings be said to have “intestines”? And among those who serve in government, who has a truly upright heart? If even one exists, let him step forward. Their grand political plans are nothing but schemes to deceive kings, exploit the people, and sell out the nation. With such rotten, filthy, foulsmelling intestines, it is better that we have none. There are many people who do not know how to become angry even when insulted, nor how to rejoice when they see good things. Even when they suffer oppression to the point of unbearable hardship, they feel no indignation. Even when humiliated by others, they do not resist; instead, they are content to live as slaves. Even when officials oppress them unjustly, they have no desire to seek freedom. Can such people truly be said to have intestines? We, even without intestines, will fight back if someone tries to harm us—we will seize the offender with our claws and die resisting if necessary. Once, when I was traveling through a certain country, I saw foreign soldiers passing through and harassing a woman, even groping her. When she cried out and cursed them, the soldier kicked and struck her violently. Yet the local people merely stood by watching; not a single person came to defend her. They either thought it was none of their concern or were too afraid. But was it not their fellow countrywoman being abused? Should they not have been outraged? Instead, they laughed and watched. Do they not realize that the humiliation suffered by that woman today may fall upon their own mothers or wives tomorrow? Such people claim to have intestines, yet they are unbearable. We crabs, though said to have no intestines, at least know joy. When there is a national celebration, we know how to rejoice, even if only by hanging a small flag. And let me tell you of our deeds. In the Song dynasty, when a man named Chiu-hao was captured and exiled to Suzhou, we rescued him. At another time, we saved a young woman in danger by cutting down a giant serpent with our claws. We also fought mountain spirits, rescued a man’s

John J. Han 81 body from disgrace, and exposed the wrongdoing of a corrupt woman. All our actions are just and honorable. We do not do filthy deeds like humans. People themselves even have a proverb about us: “A crab never enters a hole that is not its own.” Indeed, it is true. No matter how urgent the situation is, we only enter proper places. We do not go where we do not belong. But look at humans: they abandon their parents and become monks in the mountains; women enter temples under the guise of devotion while harboring impurity; so-called gentlemen waste money in pleasure houses; others abandon the right path and enter wrongdoing. Some enter false religions, some rush into fire, some embrace rocks and jump into wells— countless forms of ruin. They cannot even distinguish between proper and improper places, yet they ridicule us for having no intestines. In truth, human intestines are already rotten, and soon there may be none left at all. Perhaps in the future, it will be humans who are called “lords without intestines.” The crab finished speaking, and its words were so forceful that even seasoned orators like Su Qin and Zhang Yi would not have surpassed it. It stepped down from the podium, and from another side, yet another creature called for the chairman and rushed up to the platform as if flying. Notes [40] Baopuzi (抱朴子): The sobriquet of Ge Hong (葛洪, 283-343), a Chinese scholar, alchemist, and Daoist thinker of the Eastern Jin dynasty. Baopuzi is also the title of his major work, which discusses Daoism, alchemy, medicine, and other subjects. [41] “Lord without intestines” (無腸公): A traditional name or epithet for the crab, referring to the belief that a crab has no true intestines or digestive tract. The expression is found in classical Chinese literature and is used here humorously as the crab’s self-designation. 8. Sixth Speaker: “Extreme Busyness” (Fly) The fly, as the crab’s mouth foamed and its speech subsided in a torrent of words, slowly crawled down. Then it called for the chairman and darted up to the podium as if flying. Rubbing its two hands together repeatedly, it began to speak: I am a fly. People say that we flies are crafty petty villains. But in truth, human beings never examine their own faults and are always quick to speak ill of others. Those who possess the nature of petty deceit are humans themselves. We are certainly not such creatures. In the Book of Songs,42 there is a line about “restless green flies settling on a perch,”43 but that is not referring to us—it is a metaphor for humans. Likewise, the saying that “no matter how you drive flies away in a

82 Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal room, they never disappear”44 does not refer to us either; it refers to cunning petty people among humans. We have never done anything deceitful, but among humans there are many true villains. Just as Zhao Gao once called a deer a horse to deceive his ruler, so too are many modern governments filled with such Zhao Gao-like traitors. And just as Cao Cao was not the only one who used the emperor as a tool to command feudal lords, the whole world today seems filled with petty schemers like him. In a world where morality has fallen and social customs have grown thin and corrupt, everyone smiles with a knife hidden behind their laughter and carries a gun in their words. Friends betray friends for personal gain; comrades destroy one another to succeed; those who once shared poverty abandon each other once they become wealthy. Some betray lifelong friends, others falsely accuse righteous people and send them to prison—all for their own advancement. Is this truly what a human being is? Even we flies do not eat alone when we eat. We invite our companions and gather our friends to share food in harmony. Yet humans, when they see profit, even brothers lose their righteousness, and families lose their bonds. In extreme cases, they slaughter even their own flesh and blood. It is unbearable to witness. Humans claim to love their fellow beings, but do they truly love their compatriots? In reality, they rob, fight, envy, slander, shoot, and stab one another; they drink one another’s blood and consume one another’s flesh. We do none of this. People say dung is the filthiest thing, yet even when we defecate, we do not try to deceive others—we simply do so openly, whether on white or dark surfaces. Humans, however, commit deeds far more disgusting than dung, though they hide them for fear of being seen or spoken about. But Heaven, who knows all things, already knows their deeds. In the past, a man named Yuxing tried to drive us away with a fan while sitting on a melon, and another named Wangsha drew a sword to kill us while we fed. Even though they drove us away, they grew angry when we did not leave, saying, ‘Flies return even when driven away.’ But they are the ones who chase what should not be chased and fail to chase what should be chased. Humans should not be trying to drive us away. Instead, they should listen to my words. Put down your fans and swords and hear me: what you should truly drive away is the demons troubling your own hearts. Drive away the greed within you. Drive away the rotten thoughts in your mind. Drive away the corrupt officials in your government. Drive away the petty villains in your world. What is a melon? What is food? Human beings, we tens of billions of flies plead together, rubbing our hands in supplication: do not hate us. Instead, drive away the demons that Heaven itself hates. If you will not listen with your hands, then I will beg with my feet.

John J. Han 83 Full of righteous indignation, the fly finished its speech, scolding humans as less than even its own dung, and stepped down while offering both rebuke and exhortation. Notes [42] Book of Songs (Shijing, 詩經): The earliest surviving collection of Chinese poetry, traditionally compiled during the Zhou dynasty. It is one of the Five Classics of Confucianism. [43] “Restless green flies settling on a perch”: An allusion to the poem “Qing Ying” (青蠅, “Green Flies”) in the Book of Songs. The flies symbolize slanderers or treacherous people who corrupt and disturb society. [44] “No matter how you drive flies away in a room, they never disappear”: A traditional proverbial expression comparing persistent flies to troublesome or petty people who are difficult to get rid of. 9. Seventh Speaker: “Harsh Governance Is More Ferocious Than a Tiger” (Tiger) A mighty voice summoned the chair, and the mountains and rivers seemed to tremble in response. As he stepped onto the platform and slowly shook his head, he surveyed the audience. His eyes shone like lanterns, his bearing was majestic, and with his crimson mouth opened wide and his fangs grinding, he began to speak. The audience fell silent: My name is Tiger, also known as the Mountain Lord.45 Some of you may already know me. I will now speak briefly on the subject of “Harsh governance is more ferocious than a tiger.” As you know, these are the words of the great sage Confucius of ancient times. The meaning is that oppressive rules are more terrifying than a tiger. There is also a similar saying by Yang Zhu,47 who said that harsh officials are like winged, horned tigers.48 From time immemorial, people have called us the most violent and fearsome of beings. But how many people have truly suffered harm from us? In truth, it is humans who destroy one another and slaughter one another in countless numbers. Even if we act violently, it is only within deep mountains, deep valleys, and dense forests. We do not, like humans, commit murder and robbery in broad daylight in palaces and capital cities. Humans kill other humans in daylight, seize property, and imprison innocent people in jails—releasing them only when money is paid, and killing them when it is not. Even when a benevolent ruler issues pardons, corrupt officials manipulate justice unfairly. Officials sell offices for money, and those who buy them exploit their positions to the fullest. In the end, all political schemes exist only to harm others. A certain English scholar named Fins once said that because humans are cruel to one another, millions suffer tragic fates. Long ago, when King Jin of Qin invited King Huai of Chu, a minister named Qu Ping

84 Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal warned him: “Qin is a tiger-like state; it cannot be trusted.” Yet Qin was not the only tiger-state. Today, across all five continents, which nation is without greed? Which nation is without cruelty? Where is a government that truly follows righteousness? Every nation is Qin; every human is a tiger. People say tigers are cruel, but that is ignorance. By nature, we repay kindness and understand righteousness. Anyone who has studied the classics may know this. In ancient times, a man named Guo Wu saved a bone stuck in a tiger’s throat, and the tiger later repaid him with a deer. The minister Ziming was cast out into Mount Mengze, and a tigress nursed and raised him. These stories show that we understand gratitude and righteousness. But how many humans truly know gratitude or righteousness? There is a saying, “Raising a tiger leaves future trouble,” but in truth, raising unworthy human offspring is the real source of disaster. Some raise tiger cubs and gain virtue in return, but few raise human children and receive goodness in return. Another proverb says, “The tiger dies leaving its skin; man dies leaving his name.” Yet how many truly honorable people exist today? Human life is short—“seventy years is rare”—and there is hardly enough time to do all the good one intends. And yet people cling desperately to life while harboring dark intentions to do evil. Some block a tiger at the front gate while inviting a wolf through the back door—how pitiful! In ancient times, people wore tiger skins when committing theft, but today humans wear human skins while possessing tiger hearts, becoming even more brutal and vicious. The Heavenly Lord is perfectly just and impartial; how could such wicked and savage beings be granted the honor of being called the most noble of creatures? It would be better, I think, to eliminate the offspring of those who do evil. With that, he finished speaking and stepped down. Notes [45] Mountain Lord (山君): A traditional honorific or epithet for the tiger in Chinese literature and folklore, reflecting the tiger’s status as ruler of the mountains. [46] “Harsh governance is more ferocious than a tiger” (苛政猛於虎): A famous saying attributed to Confucius (孔子) in the Book of Rites (Liji, 禮記). It means that oppressive government can be more terrifying and destructive than a tiger. [47] Yang Zhu (楊朱): A philosopher of the Warring States period, known for teachings emphasizing individual life and self-preservation. His statement comparing harsh officials to “winged, horned tigers” reinforces the image of ruthless officials as especially dangerous predators.

John J. Han 85 [48] “Winged, horned tigers” (為政者虎翼角): A figurative expression portraying cruel or oppressive officials as tigers made even more dangerous by possessing wings and horns. 10. Eighth Speaker: “Coming and Going in Pairs” (Mandarin Duck) As the tiger finished speaking and stepped down, a beautiful mandarin duck49 with a composed appearance and dignified bearing stepped onto the platform. With a sorrowful voice, it began to speak: I am a mandarin duck. What you have said in attacking human wrongdoing is largely justified; however, the gravest evil among humans is sexual immorality. When Heaven50 created humans, it made one man and one woman. The union of one man and one woman who do not betray each other is the natural order51 and the proper human relationship.52 It is not right for a man to have multiple wives, nor for a woman to have multiple husbands.53 Yet people in the world think that it is fine for men to keep many women and live in luxury. Some keep two or three wives and concubines; some keep five or six. Some remarry two or three times after marriage without ever caring for their first wife. Others abandon their lawful wife and favor concubines, only to end in ruin. A man taking multiple wives is a violation of Heaven’s principle. If a woman has two husbands, people regard it as a grave scandal; but when a man has two wives, they see it as ordinary. Why is there such double standard? Men are not condemned for stealing another man’s wife, yet when a woman is involved with another man, it is treated as a major outrage. Is this not unjust? According to the natural principle established by Heaven, a man should have only one wife, and a woman should have only one husband. No matter the gender, it is wrong to serve two partners. Yet people today are immoral, corrupt, and unfaithful. For the sake of a single willow branch by the roadside, they forget a lifelong spouse; for the sight of a single flower in a garden, they cast aside their lawful wife. There are even cases where a husband, while ill and bedridden, is betrayed by his wife and her doctor-lover. Some women disguise adultery as religious devotion when they visit Buddhist monks under the pretense of prayer. Others, after their husbands die, immediately begin arranging remarriage within days. In short, human beings have no sense of loyalty, no moral obligation—only lustful desire. We mandarin ducks, though small creatures of this world, do not behave in such filthy ways. We understand the order of male and female and the sacred bond of marriage, and therefore we never act immorally. There are even stories among humans about our fidelity.

86 Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal Once, a hunter captured a mandarin duck. The female duck, having lost her mate, remained faithful and mourned for a year. Later, she also was struck by the hunter’s arrow. When the hunter brought her home and plucked her feathers, he found something beneath her wing: the head of the male duck he had killed the year before. It turned out that the female duck had carried her mate’s head beneath her wing all that time, unable to forget her bond even in grief. Moved by such loyalty, the hunter did not eat them and instead buried them in a clean place, and from then on never hunted mandarin ducks again. Even among animals, fidelity is like this. Yet human behavior is far more vulgar and shameful than ours. How many men mourn their wives sincerely when they die? How many husbands remain faithful after losing their spouse? I have never heard of such a thing. Most remarry immediately or take concubines, bringing disorder and disharmony into their households. As for women, while many may observe widow chastity outwardly, some secretly engage in affairs or, barely days after their husband’s death, rush to find another partner. Some even abandon their children at bridges or doorways. Others, seduced by lovers, leave their living husbands or go so far as to poison them. Human wrongdoing is so varied and vile that it cannot all be spoken. Truly, the most corrupt and disgraceful beings in the world are human beings. If I were to continue, even my mouth would become defiled, so I shall stop here. Having finished its speech, the mandarin duck stepped down from the platform. The chairperson rose again to speak. Notes [49] Mandarin duck (鴛鴦): A pair of mandarin ducks traditionally symbolizes marital fidelity and conjugal harmony in Chinese and Korean literature and culture. [50] Heaven (天): In traditional East Asian thought, Heaven represents the cosmic and moral order underlying human life and society. [51] Natural order (천리, 天理): Literally “the principle of Heaven,” referring to the moral and cosmic order believed to govern human conduct, especially in Neo-Confucian thought. [52] Proper human relationship (인륜, 人倫): The moral order governing proper relationships among human beings, a central concept in Confucian ethics. [53] “One man and one woman”: This formulation reflects the Christian ideal of monogamous marriage more closely than historical Confucian practice, in which polygyny and concubinage were permitted in many East Asian societies. Although Confucian ethics emphasized marital fidelity, family order, and proper relationships between husband and wife, it did not categorically prohibit a man from having multiple wives or concubines.

John J. Han 87 11. Closing Session (閉會) The remarks you have all made are, in truth, entirely reasonable. Human beings are said to be the most precious and most spiritual of all creatures in the world, but I would say they are, in fact, the most foolish, the most corrupt, and the most monstrous.54 If one were to list their actions, there would be no end to them, and since time is already late, I hereby declare the meeting closed. With that, all the assembled beasts at once dispersed: those that fly took to the air, those that crawl crept away, those that leap sprang off, and among them were those that cried, those that barked, and those that danced—each returning to its own place. Alas! After listening to the speeches of the beasts and reflecting quietly, I came to think that the most pitiful being in the world is man. How did I come to be born as a human, only to be subjected to such shame? Humans are said to be the most precious among all beings, the most spiritual, the most gifted, and the most intelligent—yet in truth, they are the evilest, the most grotesque, the most licentious, the most deceitful, the most impure, and the most foolish. They do not know filial piety like the crow, nor do they know how to keep their place like the frog. They are more cunning than the fox, more brutal than the tiger, less honest than the bee, less compassionate toward their fellow beings than the fly. In matters of greed, they are worse than the crab, and in moral depravity, they put the mandarin duck to shame. When the animals delivered their speeches, I thought I might rise to defend humankind—but upon reflection, I found no words with which to do so. I tried to argue against them, yet even the most eloquent rhetoric would be useless here. Humanity has fallen below the beasts, and the beasts have risen above humanity. What is to be done? Yet I hear the words of Jesus that God still loves human beings. Even if they have committed many evil deeds, there remains a path to salvation through repentance. Therefore, all brothers and sisters in this world, reflect deeply upon this. The meeting was adjourned. Note [54] This hyperbolic, tongue-in-cheek argument recalls one Mark Twain makes in his “The Lowest Animal.”

88 Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal

[Photo Essay] England: A Journey through Christian Heritage John J. Han I had never visited England until May 2026, when I traveled there for a week with Missouri Baptist University’s Chorale & Choral Society, directed by Dr. Jordan Cox. The group performed at three different churches, where the singing was enthusiastically received by well-attended audiences. During our stay in England, we visited nearly a dozen sites, including London, Salisbury, Stonehenge, Bath, Bristol, Wells, Coventry, Stratford-upon-Avon, and Oxford. England is much smaller than France and Germany, which I visited in 2025, making it convenient to travel from one place to the next. This essay presents photographs related to Christian sites—cathedrals, abbeys, and monuments—that I took during the trip. Christianity reached Britain during the Roman period. After Roman rule declined in the fifth century, Christianity survived mainly in Celtic regions such as Wales, Ireland, and parts of Scotland. In 597, Augustine of Canterbury—distinct from Augustine of Hippo—was sent by Pope Gregory I to convert the Anglo-Saxons, leading to the establishment of the medieval English Church centered at Canterbury Cathedral. Christianity gradually became the dominant religion throughout England, Scotland, and Wales, shaping British culture, literature, education, law, and architecture for centuries. The sixteenth-century Protestant Reformation later transformed the religious landscape with the formation of the Church of England under Henry VIII. Although Catholicism survived the Reformation, some Catholic churches were converted into Anglican churches. It was educational to visit England, a relatively small nation that played a major role in the development and global spread of Protestant Christianity. Religious movements such as Methodism, the Baptists, and the Quakers originated in England and later spread throughout the world. The British Empire often expanded through trade and commercial influence, though military conquest and colonial force also played major roles in its growth and maintenance. However, the rise of abolitionism in the United Kingdom and the fact that many former colonies later chose to join the voluntary Commonwealth of Nations suggest that the legacy of British colonialism remains complex and multifaceted.

John J. Han 89

Composite image based on map data © OpenStreetMap contributors. Our itinerary began with a two-day tour of London. We then traveled west to visit Salisbury and nearby Stonehenge, as well as Bristol, Bath, and Wells. From there, we headed northeast to Stratford-upon-Avon and Coventry in the Heart of England. Thereafter, we traveled southeast to Oxford before returning to London.

90 Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal

Our American Airlines flight landed in Terminal 3 of London Heathrow Airport. According to the English tour guide, arriving in Terminal 3 is less complex than at some other terminals. The airport was less crowded than I had expected, and thanks to the electronic travel visa, which I had obtained weeks before the trip, I did not need any interviews with immigration officials. Indeed, all visitors went through an unmanned checkpoint, which is a global trend these days.

John J. Han 91

Windsor Castle, about 25 miles west of central London, has a deep Christian connection through its historic royal chapel, where worship remains an active part of life within the castle.

92 Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal

The top of St. George’s Gate features St. George—the patron saint of England—slaying a dragon, a symbol of evil.

John J. Han 93

St George’s Chapel, Windsor Castle, is a working church of the Church of England and the spiritual home of the Order of the Garter, as well as the site of royal services and burials. St George’s Chapel is the final resting place of Queen Elizabeth II and her husband, Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh.

94 Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal

Westminster Abbey, whose official name is the Collegiate Church of Saint Peter at Westminster, is a royal Anglican church in central London. Since 1066, it has served as the coronation church for English and British monarchs and as the burial place of many monarchs.

John J. Han 95

Top: Big Ben/Elizabeth Tower along the River Thames. The building immediately to the right of Big Ben in the photo is part of the Palace of Westminster (the Houses of Parliament). Bottom: Big Ben and the Palace of Westminster viewed from the River Thames.

Palace of Westminster reflects England’s Christian heritage through its close association with parliamentary tradition shaped by the Church of England. Its ceremonies and constitutional rituals are historically linked to worship and prayer at nearby Westminster Abbey, underscoring the enduring role of Christianity in British public life.

96 Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal

Top: Completed in 1633, St. Paul’s Church, Covent Garden (The Actors’ Church), is an Anglican church in central London. Middle: A statue depicts the conversion of St. Paul on the road to Damascus. Bottom: Missouri Baptist University’s Chorale & Choral Society performed at St. Paul’s Church.

John J. Han 97

Top: Salisbury Baptist Church in Salisbury is a member of the Baptist Union of Great Britain, Southern Counties Baptist Association, Evangelical Alliance, and Salisbury Churches Together. (https://www.salisburybaptist.com/about-us) Bottom: Missouri Baptist University’s Chorale & Choral Society performed at Salisbury Baptist Church.

98 Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal

Bath Abbey, whose official name is the Abbey Church of Saint Peter and Saint Paul, is a historic Gothic church whose present structure was begun in 1499 and completed in the early 16th century, though the site has been a place of Christian worship since the 7th century. Formerly a Benedictine monastery, it is now a parish church of the Church of England. Its west front is richly decorated with carvings of angels ascending and descending ladders, symbolizing the connection between heaven and earth.

John J. Han 99

Top: St Cuthbert’s Church is the Anglican parish and civic church for the city of Wells, Somerset. Bottom: Missouri Baptist University’s Chorale & Choral Society performed at St. Cuthbert’s.

100 Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal

Top: Stained glass at St. Cuthbert’s Church. Bottom: What caught my attention most was the group of angels perched atop the ceiling of the sanctuary. These angelic figures at St. Cuthbert’s reflect traditional Christian symbolism, representing divine presence and the heavenly realm within the sacred space of worship.

John J. Han 101

Martyrs’ Memorial in the city of Oxford commemorates the Protestant bishops Hugh Latimer, Nicholas Ridley, and Thomas Cranmer, who were executed during the Marian persecutions of the 1550s for their Protestant beliefs. The Victorian Gothic monument reflects the lasting religious significance of the English Reformation and the struggle over faith in Tudor England.

102 Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal

A stone cross on Broad Street, Oxford, marks the site where the Protestant reformers Hugh Latimer, Nicholas Ridley, and Thomas Cranmer were executed during the Marian persecutions in the 1550s.

John J. Han 103

Christ Church has deep Christian roots as both a college of the University of Oxford and the seat of the Cathedral Church of Christ, making it unique among Oxford colleges. Founded by Henry VIII in 1546, it remains closely connected to the Church of England through its cathedral, worship traditions, and religious heritage.

104 Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal

Christ Church Cathedral, Oxford. This floor memorial marks the connection of John and Charles Wesley to Christ Church, where they studied and were part of the early “Holy Club” movement that later developed into Methodism.

John J. Han 105

Our trip to England in May 2026 was pleasant and unhurried. The weather was often chilly, cloudy, and drizzly, but the country’s relatively small size made it easy to travel from place to place. The photo above was taken at the Royal Crescent in Bath, Somerset.

106 Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal

Notes on Contributors Matthew Bardowell is Associate Professor of English at Missouri Baptist University, where he teaches classes from composition to British Literature. He specializes in Old English and Old Norse poetry and the work of J. R. R. Tolkien and C. S. Lewis. He is co-editor of Certainty and Ambiguity: Essays on the Moral Imagination of Mystery Fiction (Bloomsbury Academics, 2024). His recent work appears in From Rus' to Rímur: Norse History, Culture, and Literature East and West published by Cornell UP. He has a chapter on G. K. Chesterton in Handbook of Literary Apologetics: The Imagination’s Journey to God (De Gruyter, 2025). Bardowell holds a Ph.D. in English from Saint Louis University. Jane Beal (Ph.D., University of California, Davis) is Professor of English Literature at the University of La Verne. She is the author or editor of eight academic books and over forty peer-reviewed articles and chapters, primarily on the Pearl-poet, the Polychronicon, and the mythology of J.R.R. Tolkien. Her poetry collections include Sanctuary, Rising, and Song of the Selkie, eight haiku micro-chaps, and three audio recording projects combining poetry and music, “Songs from the Secret Life,” “Love Song,” and, co-created with her brother Andrew Beal, “The Jazz Bird,” available from Amazon, iTunes, and Spotify. To learn more about her and her work, see https://janebeal.wordpress.com. Jane Blanchard, a native of Charlottesville, Virginia, lives and writes in Augusta, Georgia. She studied English at Wake Forest University before earning a doctorate from Rutgers University. Her dissertation examined divisions of diction, character, and narrator in Edmund Spenser’s The Faerie Queene. She has taught students at the preparatory and collegiate levels and has published literary criticism in venues such as Pacific Coast Philology, Renascence, and South Atlantic Review. She favors formal verse, with recent work appearing in Arion, Modern Age, and Valley Voices. Her ninth collection of poetry, Phenomena (Kelsay Books, 2026), consists of sonnets, all sorts of sonnets. Aaron S. Halstead is an adjunct professor for the School of Humanities and Theology at Missouri Baptist University, teaching courses on both the Old and New Testaments. He is also the Lead Pastor of Teaching and Worship Ministries at Mid-Cities Church in Maplewood, Missouri. He received a Ph.D. in Preaching, minoring in Systematic Theology, from Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary, writing on the proclamation theology of Heinrich Bullinger and its appropriation into a Baptist theology of preaching. His research interests include homiletics, proclamation and kerygmatic theology, systematic and historical theology, discipleship and spiritual formation, Baptist identity, pastoral ministry,

Notes on Contributors 107 the Protestant Reformation, and Anabaptists. He is married with two children, ages seven and four. John J. Han (Ph.D., University of Nebraska-Lincoln) is Professor of English and Creative Writing and Associate Dean of the School of Humanities and Theology at Missouri Baptist University. Dr. Han is the author, editor, co-editor, or translator of 38 books, including Certainty and Ambiguity in Global Mystery Fiction: Essays on the Moral Imagination (Bloomsbury Academic, 2024), To the Hills and Hollows: Haibun and Tanka Prose (Cyberwit, 2024), and Harold Bell Wright’s Ozarks: Photos with Notes (Cyberwit, 2023). His forthcoming book, Echoes from the Hills: Critical Essays on Ozarks Literature, co-edited with Dr. C. Clark Triplett, will be published by the University of Arkansas Press. Philip C. Kolin is the Distinguished Professor of English Emeritus and Editor Emeritus of the Southern Quarterly at the University of Southern Mississippi. He has published more than 40 books on Shakespeare, Tennessee Williams, and African American theatre, including 17 books of poetry and more than 400 poems in such journals as Christianity and Literature, Spiritus, U.S. Catholic, Christian Century, Agape, St. Austin Review, Michigan Quarterly Review, and America Magazine. He has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize, and several of his poetry books have received awards from the Catholic Media Association. Among his most recent titles are Reaching Forever: Poems (Poiema Series, Cascade Books, 2019); White Terror, Black Trauma: Resistance Poems about Black History (Third World Press, 2023); Evangeliaries: Poems (Angelico Press, 2025); and Centenary Garland: Poems about Saint Therese of Lisieux (Teresian Press, UK, 2026). Mollie Monje is a senior at Missouri Baptist University. She is working towards a degree in English and a minor in Apologetics studies. In her free time, she enjoys reading, crocheting, photography, and spending time with her friends and family. After she graduates, she is hoping to be an editor or something similar in that field. Julie Ooms is Professor of English at Missouri Baptist University. She received her Ph.D. in English from Baylor University in 2014, focusing on twentieth-century war literature. Her current research focuses on Christian practices for teaching reading and the crossroads of religion and secularism in twentieth-century American fiction. She has published articles on the writing of Tim O’Brien, J.D. Salinger, and Sylvia Plath in Renascence, Journal of the Short Story in English, Christian Scholar’s Review, and Plath Profiles. Her book chapter about female friendship in two novels, The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath and Hangsaman by Shirley Jackson, was published in Navigating Women’s Friendships in American Literature and Culture from Palgrave in 2022. Her book (co-written with

108 Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal Rachel B. Griffis and Rachel M. De Smith Roberts), On Deep Reading: Practices to Subvert Distraction, Hostility, and Consumerism (Baker Academic, 2024), which Christianity Today selected as a 2025 Book Award Finalist in Culture, Poetry and the Arts. Mercedes C. Parker is a senior English undergrad at Missouri Baptist University. For the past couple of years, she has served as a student editor for MBU's Flash!: A Journal of Very Short Fiction, where you can find her most recent fiction publication in its ninth edition. She is a member of the university’s Honors program and coaches writing in the Student Success Center. She is currently focusing on her senior research, analyzing female agency and “Englishness” in Baroness Orczy’s The Scarlet Pimpernel. When she’s not reading or writing for her fantastic professors, you can likely find her reading or writing for herself—or wrestling a blanket from her sixteen-pound dog, Gigi. This is her first publication in Integrité. Matthew J. Ramsey is an online undergraduate student at Missouri Baptist University, where he is studying ministry and leadership. His creative and academic writing draws deeply from scripture to explore themes of spiritual wilderness, divine grace, and healing. “Anima Splendida (The Radiant Soul): A Spiritual Diptych” is his first publication in a national, peer-reviewed academic journal. As a non-traditional student balancing real-world life experience with his education, Matthew brings a grounded, mature perspective to his work. After graduating, he hopes to attend Concordia Seminary in St. Louis to earn his Master of Divinity and become a called, ordained Lutheran pastor. Todd Sukany, a two-time Pushcart nominee, lives in Pleasant Hope, Missouri, with his wife of over forty years. His work has appeared in Cantos: A Literary and Arts Journal, Cave Region Review, The Christian Century, Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal, eMerge Magazine, and The Ekphrastic Review. Sukany authored Frisco Trail and Tales as well as co-authored four books of poetry under the title, Book of Mirrors, with Raymond Kirk. A native of Michigan, Sukany stays busy running, playing music, loving three children, their spouses, seven grandchildren, caring for a rescued dog, and four rescued cats. C. Clark Triplett is Emeritus Dean of Graduate Studies and Professor of Psychology at Missouri Baptist University. He served as co-editor of The Final Crossing: Death and Dying in Literature (Peter Lang, 2015), a coeditor of Worlds Gone Awry: Essays on Dystopian Fiction (McFarland, 2018), and a co-editor of Certainty and Ambiguity in Global Mystery Fiction: Essays on the Moral Imagination (Bloomsbury Academic, 2024). Triplett’s poems have appeared in Cantos, Fireflies’ Light, and the Asahi Haikuist Network. He earned a BA from Southwest Baptist University, an MDiv from Covenant Theological Seminary, an MSEd from Southern Illinois University at Edwardsville, and a PhD from Saint Louis University.

Notes on Contributors 109 John Zheng’s recent poetry collections include Dreaminations (Madville, 2026) and Visual Chords (Broken Tribe, 2025). A professor of English at Mississippi Valley State University, he has received three poetry fellowships from the Mississippi Arts Commission.

Intégrité: A Faith and Learning Journal Submission Guidelines Intégrité (pronounced IN-tay-gri-tay) is a peer-reviewed scholarly journal focused on the integration of Christian faith and higher learning. Founded in the fall of 2002 with an Institutional Renewal Grant from the Rhodes Consultation on the Future of the Church-Related College, the journal is published both online and in print. Interested Christian scholars are encouraged to submit academic articles (15-25 pages double-spaced), short essays on faith and learning (8-12 pages double-spaced), book reviews (4-8 pages double-spaced), and poetry (5-15 poems single-spaced) for consideration. Along with your work, we need an author bio of 100-125 words written in the third person and complete sentences. Manuscripts should be sent as e-mail attachments (Microsoft Word format) to the editor, John J. Han, at john.han@mobap.edu. Due dates are March 1 for inclusion in the spring issue and September 1 for inclusion in the fall issue. Articles should examine historical, theological, philosophical, cultural, and/or pedagogical issues related to faith-learning integration. Possible topics include, but are not limited to: • • • • • • • • • •

the current state and/or future of the church-related college history of Christian liberal arts education Christianity and contemporary culture artificial intelligence (AI) and Christian education a Christian perspective on multiculturalism and diversity service learning academic freedom in a Christian context implementation of Christian truths in academic disciplines Christian education in the non-Western world global Christianity.

Articles must engage in faith-learning issues or controversies in a scholarly, critical manner. We generally do not consider manuscripts that are merely factual, devotional, or sermonic. Articles are expected to be research-based but must focus on the author’s original thought. We also do not consider articles that use more than twenty-five secondary sources; merely present other scholars’ opinions without developing extended, thoughtful analysis; and/or use excessive endnotes. Direct quotations, especially lengthy ones, should be used sparingly.

Submission Guidelines111 Considering that most Intégrité readers are Christian scholars and educators without expertise in multiple disciplines, articles, short essays, and book reviews should be written in a concise, clear, and accessible style. Writers are encouraged to follow the advice of William Strunk Jr. and E.B. White in The Elements of Style: use definite, specific, concrete language; omit needless words; avoid a succession of loose sentences; write naturally; and avoid fancy words. For citation style, refer to the current edition of the MLA Handbook for Writers of Research Papers. Articles and short essays should include intext citations in parentheses, a list of endnotes (if applicable), and an alphabetical listing of works cited at the end of the article. Enter endnotes manually instead of using the “Insert Endnote” function in a wordprocessing program. Book reviews need only page numbers in parentheses after direct quotations.