The Sage and the Saint

MY DEAR OLDHAM, My only justification for attempting to write about education in a Christian society is that no one else has so far done so. The problems of education in a secular society – but perhaps the right word is neither secular nor pagan, but infidel – have been dealt with again and again by those who can speak from vocation, knowledge, and experience; and some of the writers who speak with authority on these problems are men of strong Christian convictions. And the subject of religious instruction in schools, under contemporary conditions, is receiving a good deal of attention. My subject is education in a society which should be Christian in the sense and to the degree indicated in my book The Idea of a Christian Society. I was not there concerned with the means to be employed to bring such a society into existence; and I am not here concerned with the means of realizing a Christian education. Yet I maintain that it is well to have some notion of where we want to go before we arrange to start upon a journey; and, accordingly, while I am concerned with the end and not the means, I believe that our conception of the end should not be wholly without influence upon our action.

The lack of any clear notion of the end seems to me to impair much contemporary discussion of education. One error into which we may fall is that of assuming that our social framework is always going to be what it has been and elaborating our reforms within that frame: this might be described as an attempt to give our fathers and grandfathers a better education – and our fathers and grandfathers are no longer in need of any re-education that we could give them. The other mistake, and one to which in these times we are more prone, is to plan for a “changing world” – but on the assumption, that we all too readily make, that we have a pretty shrewd idea of what the changes are going to be. This form of gambling has the disadvantage that however the world changes – and I concede that our world is likely to change with great rapidity – a great deal of change will be unexpected, and some of it unrecognized when it comes. It is like cutting cloths for a child which is growing fast, but not at a steady rate and in regular proportions: the child will always be finding itself in a new suit which doesn’t fit, and which never will fit. All that we can say for such reforms is that, if they do not give us a better education, they will at least give us one which is not wrong in the same respects. Prudence advises us to restrict our reforms to patching and changing here and there, not committing ourselves to a desperate hazard on what the future is going to be like. But at the same time reason counsels us to avoid surrendering ourselves either to a present which is already past or to a future which is unknown, and to look below the surface of apparent fixity or inscrutable change in search of those educational values which can be regarded as permanent. We hear a good deal of “social philosophy” and of the “philosophy of education,” as well as of the “sociological attitude”: but if the philosophy is to be more than a philosophy of flux, it must endeavor to determine what are these permanent values.

The Essential Values

I suggest that the values which we most ignore, the recognition of which we most seldom find in writings on education, are those of Wisdom and Holiness, the values of the sage and of the saint. I have no need, in the Christian News-Letter, to attempt to define these terms; but it is as well to remind ourselves that there are innumerable people today to whom the terms would be meaningless if I defined them. In the East, and in pre-Christian Europe, the sage and the saint have been hardly distinguishable from each other. We must recognize the truth in both the Oriental and the Christian views. In the East, it must be remembered, the sage as the educated man at the highest stage – the sadhu, or mahatma, or whatever other word you use – was a person who had educated his emotions and sensibility, as well as his mind, by the most arduous application to study. The Christian West, on the other hand, while ready to recognize and to canonize the union of intellectual and spiritual excellence in one person (St. Thomas Aquinas and St. John of the Cross are two types of such union) has held a doctrine of divine grace unknown to the Orient, and has always recognized saintliness in the humble and unlearned as well. I believe, of course, that Christianity is right; but Christianity in its decayed forms could learn much from the East. For our tendency has been to identify wisdom with knowledge, saintliness with natural goodness, to minimize not only the operation of grace but self-training, to divorce holiness from education. Education has come to mean education of the mind only; and an education which is only of the mind – of the mind in its restricted sense – can lead to scholarship, to efficiency, to worldly achievement and to power, but not to wisdom.

What is known as “education for culture” and what is known as “character-building” are the atrophied vestiges of wisdom and holiness. In a Christian Society we should not educate primarily either for culture or for character; but culture and character might be by-products of our education, as technical efficiency would be incidental to it.

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 Yours sincerely,

 T. S. Eliot.