The Banner

Perhaps no single marked accusation strikes as forcefully in the minds of honest college students as the ugly qualm: "Why am I learning this?"

We might study outmoded intricacies of Freudian psychoanalysis, macroeconomic business cycle theories or the perplexing metaphysics of George Berkeley - and for what? Unless all corporate job applications suddenly begin to require a Marxist critical analysis of medieval history, the answer seems wispy and fleeting. Here, despite the raspy influence of practical insistencies in the American way of life, I submit that a thorough commitment to academic cultivation is not only a defensible choice of action; it is actually quite necessary in our 21st century human experience.

The educated mans' apology usually comes in the form of a proud profession of his being "cultured." But what does that mean? The definition is slippery at best. Yet, in some subtly hallowed manner, there seems to be some content there - even if that content has long been sacrificed to make way for the great consumerist machine of the American economy.

Culture, as defined by the Oxford English Dictionary, is the "cultivation or development of the mind, faculties, manners, etc.; Improvement by education and training." It can, of course, be understood legitimately in a variety of ways other than this. The singular "mind" though, bears with it a pertinent application to the discussion at hand. After all, you and I are concerned with a concept at home with our own life experience - not some bourgeois populace of undetermined motive and location.

Anyone with even a cursory understanding of Western civilization knows that historically our way of life is a balance between the two cities of Athens and Jerusalem. Athens, the most notable centerpiece of Ancient Greek thought, brings us the great founding fathers of classical Western thought: Socrates, Plato and Aristotle (among others). There we learn that "the unexamined life is not worth living." Jerusalem brings us the Judeo-Christian tradition. There we learn to "love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength."

The Greek pagans with their elaborate rational systems offer us the examined life - a life defined humanly. In their own daring manner, they challenge what they see as a hopelessly petty view of the world. To locate this smallness of mind, we need not look any further than the contemporary American grind. The constant flux of the producer-consumer relationship seems to be our god, at times, and the pursuit of rational cultivation seems to be an economic liability rather than a means to the all-important concept of examined life.

The Greek might ask us in all seriousness: "Why do you do it?" By "do," he means live; by "it," he means life. Faced in authenticity, the question is difficult for us to answer without appealing to something higher than that god of the economy. There is not an inherent human value in simply existing, after all.

Therefore Athens gifts us with the concept of academics as a means toward something more than just working to eat and eating to work. This is certainly a good reason to regard our studies well, as it helps define us as human. There is still more than this, though; and in Jerusalem we find not only our definition but our purpose.

Christ's command to worship God "with all your mind" seems to have fallen on some inattentive ears. To explore and analyze God's created universe is to arrive at a fuller understanding of His systematized artistry. This is the discipline of natural science. To uncover the veils of mankind's peculiar nature is to literally gaze into the image of God. This is the discipline of humanities.

To love someone is - among other things - to know that someone. So, the next time that hapless cynic asks the reaching question of "why," we should reply forcefully: "Because I love God."