Retirement (Part III): The University
I spent over thirty years teaching in one institution, Whitworth University. It grew more complex and peculiar to me as I matured in the job and came to know the institution better. Whitworth has genius to it. It is also fragile. There are very few universities like it.
I retire in the full conviction that, should Whitworth stay on present course, it will thrive and become the envy of many other schools.
What is at the heart of Whitworth’s unusual identity and mission? We use the language of mind and heart. We say our mission is to honor God, follow Christ, and serve humanity. I believe all of this is worthy and true.
But it does not quite get at what makes Whitworth unique.
In many public settings I have said that Whitworth is a “bullseye,” not a “boundary,” institution. I regret using the word “bullseye,” for obvious reasons. Still, it does communicate the point. We aim for the center of the target—the “Great Tradition” of historic Christianity, or what Lewis called “mere Christianity.” It is Christianity at its very essence, what makes Christianity itself and not something else. The Latin phrase sine qua non makes the same point.
What is that bullseye? The world is a fundamentally good place because the Triune God created it. The world is also a fundamentally bad place because there is sin, selfishness, cruelty, and indifference in the world. God loves this world and thus set in motion a plan to reclaim it, restore it, redeem it. God finally came as a human being—Jesus Christ—to set everything right. God calls his people, the church, to witness in and to the world through the power of the Holy Spirit, which is best done through words of grace and deeds of love. Jesus will someday return to make all things right, whole, and well again.
Such is the bullseye.
But Whitworth allows the boundary to be blurry, which makes most of us feel nervous and uncomfortable. The religious culture in America gravitates toward that boundary to protect and defend it, striving to make the boundary thick and clear and unambiguous. For some it is prolife; for others it is Black Lives Matter. Refusing to sign on, you become murderous or racist. And on it goes. Certainty and intolerance rule, whether on the right or on the left.
Which is why the past two presidents of Whitworth, both friends of mine, report to me that during their presidency they received equal numbers of complaints from both conservative and progressive faculty, staff, parents, alums, and donors that Whitworth is close to losing its Christian identity because — well, because it doesn’t take “the right” position on this or that issue, which to one group or another is as clear as the gospel itself, and perhaps more important.
A blurry boundary is unsettling and inconvenient. It forces careful reflection and difficult conversations. It requires forbearance, humility, vulnerability, and charity, all of which are in short supply these days.
It is for this very reason that Whitworth’s mission is fragile. In the end it depends on the people who are involved in the institution. Its success necessitates two commitments.
The first is a radical commitment to aim unrelentingly at the bullseye, which is the only way the various factions at Whitworth will maintain enough unity to keep it going and growing. It must be everyone’s commitment. We must call Jesus Lord, and mean it. Jesus Christ must be supreme in everything we do.
The second is a radical commitment to restraint and respect. We restrain our inclination to condemn and eliminate those who advocate some position that veers sharply from our own. We respect them, too, though they believe differently from us. We thus debate, disagree, and argue. But we refuse to impose, judge, and push aside.
Restraint and respect.
Success in this endeavor will help keep Whitworth faithful, creative, curious, and lively. Whitworth will continue, even in this current cultural moment of division, hostility, and acute self-righteousness, to do what liberal arts education is supposed to do. It will welcome both unbelieving and believing students on campus. It will challenge students to become genuine and serious followers of Jesus. It will expose students to both old and new ideas. It will equip students to serve and engage the world without driving away anyone who doesn’t belong to the right tribe.
Failure will destroy the campus culture. Whitworth would lose half its support within a decade. One side will win, the other will lose. But it will be a pyrrhic victory. Whitworth will eventually become “like the other nations,” as the book of Judges puts it. It will cease to be unique and competitive. Its best days will be over.
I readily admit that Whitworth is striving for what might be impossible. It is demanding work. It was certainly demanding for me. In my thirty years at Whitworth groups and departments hosted speakers that made me cringe. Some faculty advocated for things that made me cringe. The theater department performed plays that made me cringe. The student newspaper printed articles that made me cringe.
The cringe factor is high at Whitworth. It must be, or Whitworth is not being its essential self.
There is a center: Jesus Christ as Lord. The boundary is blurry. It makes for a dynamic institution.
But also a fragile one. So very fragile.
At its best I would put Whitworth up against almost any institution. But we must guard its mission and protect its delicate ethos. A clear boundary won’t do it for us. We have to do the work ourselves. We are always one step away from disaster. It all comes down to robust commitment to aim at the bullseye.
That is one reason why I cherished it so much while I taught there, and why I still cherish it today.