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Catholic
College and Universities: Books Not dead just yet
THE DYING OF THE
LIGHT: THE DISENGAGEMENT OF COLLEGES AND UNIVERSITIES FROM THEIR CHRISTIAN
CHURCHES By James Tunstead Burtchaell, CSC William B. Eerdmans,
868 pages, $45 hardcover/$20 paper |
CHOOSING THE RIGHT
COLLEGE: THE WHOLE TRUTH ABOUT AMERICAS 100 TOP
COLLEGES Introduction by William J. Bennett William B. Eerdmans,
672 pages, $25 |
By RAYMOND A. SCHROTH
We are now blessed at Fordham by having no laymen on the
faculty. So wrote a correspondent in 1891 to Woodstock Letters,
the in-house quarterly news-and-history magazine of the American Jesuits.
Things were simpler then. Fordham, a century later one of the
American churchs largest universities, had in the 1890s -- including a
high school and grammar school -- fewer than 300 students. Nearly all were
obedient but occasionally restless Catholics; daily Mass and monthly Communion
were the law; in May the cadet corps fired volleys in honor of the Queen of
Heaven; and there were enough Jesuits to teach all the classes, conduct
philosophy disputations in Latin, proctor the dormitories, supervise the study
hall and dining room and take the boys on 20-mile walks on Thursdays.
Rather than being unique to the Catholic colleges, this order of
the day was shared in many ways by Catholic and Protestant colleges throughout
the 19th-century United States. Congregationalist, Presbyterian, Lutheran and
other denominations took it for granted that if the schools were to achieve the
purpose of their founders -- that is, reinforcing the religious tenets of their
denomination -- their students, faculty, presidents, boards should all profess
the same faith both privately in their hearts and publicly in mandatory chapel,
in classroom teaching, in the rituals of the academic year and in the legal
statutes of the institution.
Then, like the first raindrop that precedes the devastating flood,
one or another slight shift of emphasis or reinterpretation of an old rule
starts the process that inexorably picks up speed and force till, today, the
founders would never recognize the modern incarnation of their dream.
In The Dying of the Light, Holy Cross Fr. James Burtchaell,
former provost and theology professor at Notre Dame, now a full-time writer at
Princeton, treats us to an encyclopedic history of the secularization of
American higher education, featuring 17 Protestant and Catholic colleges and
universities. Though no one need read every page of this very, very long book,
nearly every page is interesting. Religious educators who fail to ponder
Burtchaells final analysis and the chapters about their own institutions
will miss a chance to both rethink their own history and search their own
souls.
At Dartmouth, founded as a Congregationalist college in 1769,
William Jewett Tucker, a progressive who became president in 1881, made the
chapel services, which the students used to disrupt, popular and memorable. He
did so by making them an academic rather than religious exercise, by reducing
Christian doctrine to vapid humanism.
At Beloit College in Wisconsin, which liked to call itself the
Yale of the West, Edward Dwight Eaton, president from 1886 to 1918,
softened the curriculum with electives, agreed to have no
denominational requirement for faculty and trustees and to teach no
denominational doctrines to students in exchange for money from the Carnegie
Corporation. He substituted values like manliness for Christian
virtues. The Congregationalist schools failure, says Burtchaell, was
pietism, substituting heart religion for faith with a strong
theological foundation.
At Lafayette, founded by Presbyterians in 1850, only half of the
students came from Presbyterian families by 1889, and only a third considered
themselves of that faith. In 1905, a clever and popular teacher, John Moffatt
Mecklin, chair of the department of Mental and Moral Philosophy, made it clear
in his lectures that he had no religious faith at all. The president forced his
resignation, but the uproar over this violation of academic freedom
led to the founding of the American Association of University Professors. The
president, too, was forced to bail out.
In the 1960s and 70s, when the college attempted to adopt a
nondiscrimination policy for its fraternities, it discovered that in this
Presbyterian school, Presbyterians were outnumbered by Catholics
and Jews. Faculty members who were formerly required to be dedicated
to the proposition that the love of learning was linked to
the love of God were now asked only to be sympathetic
to that idea. Obligatory chapel was whittled down to optional meetings --
the Rev. Al Sharpton, for example, speaking on Black History Month.
And so it goes for over 800 pages, through Baptists, Methodists,
Evangelicals and Catholics.
The Dying of the Light focuses on three Catholic colleges
long sponsored by teaching congregations -- the Christian Brothers St.
Marys College in California; the Ursulines College of New Rochelle,
N.Y.; and the Jesuits Boston College -- all of which began in the
classical mode, specializing in the humanities and sciences, and ended up with
a wide array of professional, job-oriented departments and schools. All three,
because of a series of trauma in the 1960s, were threatened by economic
collapse, suffered from weak or misguided leadership, but struggled to reshape
themselves and survive.
Survive they did. They even prospered; but, says Burtchaell, at a
terrible cost -- the loss of their original vision.
St. Marys, founded in the spirit of St. Jean-Baptiste de
LaSalle, to teach the poor, now deals mostly with the middle class. Founded to
teach Catholics, it was so swept up in the diversity and
multicultural movement, accepting a $750,000 grant to Celebrate
Diversity, that it cannot clearly celebrate the values basic to the
school.
The Ursulines, built on the vision of St. Angela Merici, a
contemporary of St. Ignatius Loyola, were determined in 1904 to make their
ideal graduate a woman of culture, of efficiency and of power.
Through the 1950s, the College of New Rochelle asserted its Catholicity and
even purged three faculty members for suspected not-Catholic-enough views.
Fudging Catholic identity
By 1967, however, when declining enrollment pushed it toward
bankruptcy, to be eligible for New York State funds, the administration did
back flips to fudge its Catholic identity. To remarket itself to a broader
population, it created a School of New Resources, gave life
experience credit and hired moonlighting teachers to teach whatever would
sell. As a result, today undergraduate women constitute only 7 percent of its
students. As for religion, those seeking a deepening of religious
convictions, will find at the college a positive, accepting
attitude. They could also find that, says Burtchaell, a few miles away at
West Point.
But Burtchaell saves his heaviest fire for the Jesuits, who at St.
Louis University, Fordham and Boston College, in the late 1960s, in the spirit
of the 1967 Land OLakes report, The Idea of a Catholic
University, determined to reshape their institutions to match the
academic standards of secular institutions -- including autonomy from any
outside ecclesiastical control; academic freedom by the rules of the American
Association of University Professors; and required publish-or-perish
scholarship.
The slide down from classical Catholic liberal arts education
began, allegedly, in 1935 when Boston College and Holy Cross, working secretly,
dropped the Greek requirement for the A.B. degree. Boston College was
multiplying itself, spreading like a blob in a sci-fi flic, tacking on a School
of Education, a School of Nursing, all kinds of professional, money-making
programs. Then, in 1958, it even dropped Latin! The final collapse: In 1971,
the required philosophy courses sank to two!
The heart of Burtchaells argument: The Jesuit presidents,
who saw themselves as professional educators rather than pawns to be moved
every three years by religious superiors, conspired to free themselves not just
of Vatican and chancery interference but from the authority of their own
provincials.
In the face of declining Jesuit manpower -- as younger Jesuits
either left the society or preferred pastoral work to getting a doctorate; and
as some veteran Jesuits lacked the publishing credentials to win tenure --
Walshs theory was that less could be more. He thought 15 good
scholar-teacher Jesuits were enough to leaven a hundred lay faculty. A
daunting task today, says Burtchaell, when at Boston College there are 623
regular faculty, of whom only 20 or 30 percent are Catholic. There are several
Jesuits in only philosophy and theology, and a few scattered in other
departments. Boston College is thus paying the price for its uncontrolled 1960s
expansion, which it could not staff.
Under Walshs successor, Jesuit Fr. Donald Monan, Boston
Colleges Jesuit presence shriveled into a strategic hamlet
mode, a cadre of (by my catalog count, about 47) Jesuits who are present
at the university rather than setting its tone. Burtchaell mercilessly,
sardonically quotes the various goal statements -- from several sides of a
split Jesuit community -- which, with vague puffery like tradition,
roots and Judeo-Christian values, rather than, say,
Jesus, try to put a happy face on a lost cause.
Why has the light died?
In Protestant and Catholic schools alike, why has the light died?
According to Burtchaell: the leaders lost their nerve. They turned to, and sold
themselves to alumni, corporate, and state sources of funding. Ambitious
presidents separated themselves from church authorities. Faculty gave their
loyalty to the professional scholarly associations, lost interest in their
colleges character. To make money, the schools diversified, rather than
center on the humanities, which they know how to teach. Foolishly, fleeing the
authority of Rome, they knuckled under to the authority of the state, which
deprived them of whatever made them distinctive. Meanwhile, Catholics flooded
into Dartmouth, Beloit and Lafayette, forcing them to accommodate their chapel
requirements for the newly diverse student population. At Protestant schools,
intellectual theology declined, citizenship replaced God; at Catholic schools,
religious studies replaced theology. Finally, the church, the life-giving
source of historical continuity, was pushed aside. Everywhere, in place of
Christ -- caring.
The Intercollegiate Studies Institute, in its Choosing the
Right College, purports to save students from this debacle by evaluating
100 schools that might provide a conservative curriculum and atmosphere for a
right-thinking student. Only four of Lights schools appear in
Right. Only six on Rights list are Catholic.
Conservatives leaning toward Boston College will be glad to learn
that the new president, Jesuit Fr. William Leahy, refused to be pushed around
by both gay demonstrators who demanded recognition for their club and the
basketball coach who tried to palm off two academically substandard recruits.
Those leaning toward Georgetown will see that, while a hot school for Capitol
Hill types, the university is facing up to its diminished intellectual
stature and diluted Catholic vision. Holy Cross, the unnamed authors say,
has replaced Cardinal John Henry Newmans Idea of the
University with a simplistic program of tolerance and social
justice. It praises the history and classics departments but brands
religious studies and sociology as the most politicized on campus
-- meaning that their politics are insufficiently right.
On the other hand, Franciscan University at Steubenville, Ohio,
often touted as the Platonic ideal of the real,
orthodox Catholic college, comes across as a pious pile of
mediocrity. Although charismatics set the dominant religious atmosphere,
academically theres no core curriculum; like the schools Burtchaell
lambastes, its a collection of professional money-raising programs;
faculty get tenure whether theyre scholars or not. Its almost
a four-year retreat.
What do we say about Burtchaells book and its indictment?
First we thank him for this prodigious work of scholarship, where the footnotes
are often as illuminating as the text, and for intelligently challenging the
accepted liberal wisdom. Educated at Fordham in the 1950s and having taught
and/or served as dean at Fordham, Rockhurst, Holy Cross, St. Peters
College and Loyola New Orleans, and having lived at Catholic schools, I have
witnessed and, to some degree, suffered from the process he describes.
Assessment is just plain wrong
But his final assessment -- that the light is dying or
dead -- is just plain wrong.
Burtchaell writes as if religious colleges existed on islands in
the Caribbean or on Starship Enterprise, immune from the tug and pull of
history and culture. Along with Vatican IIs requirement that religious
orders reconsider their constitutions, the demands Sputnik put on science
education, the sexual revolution, the burst in the college-age population that
triggered the 1960s revolt, the emergence of the social sciences as ethical
weathervanes, the loss of faith in all institutions precipitated by the folly
of Vietnam and the crimes of Watergate did more to transform all universities
than a college presidents failure of nerve, or silly use of
hogwash to puff up a hollow mission statement.
Most important, the presidents were right when, in spite of
powerful and bitter opposition within their own religious communities, they
demanded the same scholarly standards from religious and lay faculty alike, and
determined that piety was no substitute for a real intellectual life, with full
freedom to pursue the truth wherever it may lead.
Schools that do not demand faculty scholarship and dont
promote an atmosphere of free discussion court -- embrace -- third-rate
status.
He is right in his theme that Catholic colleges should formally
search for and prefer to hire new faculty who are Catholics, or those of other
faiths who have studied and share the schools religious vision -- rather
than passively accepting applicants who mumble vaguely, I can live with
that.
Whatever the chaos these changes have brought, many of us who
lived through them would say that, in the context of their times, the colleges
are as Catholic as they have ever been and intellectually better
than ever.
Burtchaell declines to offer an alternative to the tragedy he
depicts; yet his logic seems to be that true Catholic colleges should be a
little more like Fordham in the 1890s, when everything was -- or seemed -- a
lot more clear. Perhaps he would be happy at Thomas Aquinas College in
California. The curriculum is four years of Great Books. There are no electives
or majors. Faculty are not professors but tutors.
Except for pro-life work, activism is discouraged. Formal dress is
required at chapel, in class, dining hall and library. Students may not chew
gum, eat or drink in class.
The college has 220 students.
Jesuit Fr. Raymond A. Schroth, assistant dean of Fordham
College, Rose Hill Campus, also teaches writing. He allows no gum-chewing,
eating, late papers, the wearing of hats or the packing of ones books
before the end of class.
National Catholic Reporter, October 16,
1998
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