The issues raised by the Christian faith are not (of course) merely academic. They are issues of life and death. But they are intellectual, for they have to do with the truth. And the best academic traits—patience, fairness, orderliness, clarity—are graces that the Church ought to covet.

The idea that the Christian faith is better felt than thought and believed is a widespread one. Its roots are widespread as well. In Protestantism since the time of Kant it has been axiomatic that God cannot be known, only ‘postulated’ or ‘projected.’ This by-now traditional agnosticism has been reinforced by challenges to the meaningfulness of religious language, and by vocal expressions of discontent over our ‘technological’ culture. The preoccupation with drugs, tongue-speaking and Eastern religions is one of the more newsworthy expressions of this trend.

Even among those who, within the Christian church, stress the importance of doctrine, and of what Machen called the ‘primacy of the intellect,’ there are uncertainties, and perhaps some confusion over the place of the mind, and of truth, in the Church’s life. There are whisperings about the ‘irrelevance’ of theology, and the attention of Christians is frequently drawn to the dangers of a ‘merely academic’ approach to Scripture. It is deplorable that those who voice such fears rarely if ever go into details about what they mean. It might be a useful thing to attempt to disentangle some of the threads in this confused but important area.

I

What is it that those who stress the importance of the intellect want to bring home? The importance of truth. Christianity is not a moral code, nor a ‘set of values’, nor a wordless, mystical tradition. It offers its message as the truth of God. Christ is the truth. He came into the world, that he might witness to the truth (John 14:6; 18:37). By the knowledge of this truth a man is set free (John 8:32). It is because of this claim to be the truth that the Christian message can be stated, and discussed and contradicted. The truth is not ineffable. Though it is deeply mysterious, it can be grasped, though never completely fathomed. And, since the Christian message is of the highest importance, it ought to be grasped. Hence the importance of the mind.

But to say that the Christian faith involves the mind is not to say that it is a ‘merely academic’ matter. But what is meant when something is referred to as ‘academic’? It is the job of the academic to be disinterested in his enquiries, to look at both sides of a question, whatever that question is. Further, he is interested in a problem or issue for its own sake, irrespective of the practical consequences and the commitments that people have made. (Though this is not to say that he views practicalities or commitments as absurd or irrational.) He is critical of arguments, if he is honest, of his own pet arguments. So what is considered to be ‘academic’ is a matter of what a man is interested in, and what not. To someone who is interested in the question of whether the Norsemen discovered North America a thousand years ago, the question of whether the Vinland map is a forgery or not is academic, because whether it is a forgery or not is irrelevant to the reality of the Norse discoveries. There is more than enough evidence of them, without the Vinland map. But if what a man is interested in is whether or not the Vinland map is a forgery, the evidence that it may be is not ‘academic’, because he is involved in the question of the map’s authenticity.

The danger of this ‘academic approach’ is that, because there is an interest in an issue for its own sake, there will be a lack of commitment to any issue, and a contempt for any who make such a commitment. But though this is a real danger it is by no means an inevitable one. And the academic approach, for all the hard things that are said against it, has certain distinct virtues. Although it ought not to cultivate irrelevance or obscurantism for its own sake, yet a true academic approach makes it possible to follow up an issue or problem unencumbered by the need for quick results (for ‘relevance’, in the current jargon). Theologians and exegetes should take heart from this. Their minute and ‘academic’ enquiries into God’s truth may seem irrelevant now, and they may become impatient for results. But who knows at what stage in the future their work may enrich and strengthen the Church’s faith?

The academic handles his problems detachedly, not necessarily because he lacks feeling, but because of the sort of interest he has in the problems. Such an interest ought by no means to amount to the whole of a Christian’s interest in God’s truth. But at its best it does inculcate standards that are vital for the long-term well-being of the Church—habits of mind needed for assessing evidence, self-criticism, the ability to discriminate between conflicting claims, to be clear and logical. One danger in constantly stressing the pitfalls of the ‘merely academic’, without stressing the compensating advantages, is that care and discrimination in biblical interpretation and in theology will be discounted and wither away.

So, the issues raised by the Christian faith are not (of course) merely academic. They are issues of life and death. But they are intellectual, for they have to do with the truth. And the best academic traits—patience, fairness, orderliness, clarity—are graces that the Church ought to covet.

II

Further, to say that the Christian faith involves the mind is not to say that the Christian faith is necessarily abstruse and technical. It involves many difficult matters in language, culture, history, philosophy and so on. And the fact that the Christian message claims to be God’s truth makes studying such matters both intelligible and appropriate. But to gain the necessary expertise to pursue these questions at length is not every Christian’s cup of tea, just as not everyone ought to be a missionary. Yet the gospel, whether expressed at a level that calls for special expertise or not, involves the mind’s grasp of the truth, and a trusting reliance upon the One who has uttered it. A Christian cannot say that, because he is not interested in or gifted for abstruse questions, he has no need to engage his mind at all.

Finally, to say that the Christian faith is intellectual is not to say that it is concerned with meanings rather than truths. It is possible to get absorbed in a system of ideas solely on account of the symmetry and beauty of the system, and to work out its implications for interest’s sake. While, as we have stressed, Christian theology aims at coherence and consistency, its primary claim upon men is because of its claim to be God’s truth. A fairy tale such as Lord of the Rings can be beautifully worked out, and utterly fascinating. But this does not make it true.

III

So far we have tried to distinguish between saying that Christianity is academic and saying that it involves the mind. And it has been suggested that, while the study of the Christian faith involves certain qualities that purely academic study requires, the Christian faith is primarily intellectual.

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