{"id":3888,"date":"2019-06-17T09:58:54","date_gmt":"2019-06-17T13:58:54","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/practicalmattersjournal.ecdsdev.org\/?p=3888"},"modified":"2019-06-21T11:45:24","modified_gmt":"2019-06-21T15:45:24","slug":"narrow-is-the-way","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/pmcleanup.ecdsdev.org\/2019\/06\/17\/narrow-is-the-way\/","title":{"rendered":"Narrow Is The Way: Christian Discipleship and the R1 University"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
Download PDF: Whitmore, Narrow is the Way<\/a><\/h5>\n\n\n\n
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Abstract <\/h3>\n\n\n\n

Previous efforts to discern whether Christian scholars have a place in the university have focused on orthodoxy\u2014whether professors can speak and write according to their faith. This article focuses rather on orthopraxy\u2014whether professors\u2019 lives as a whole can take the shape of discipleship while being carried out within the R1 university. The first section of the article sets out a biblical understanding of discipleship as the practice of following Jesus Christ in proclaiming in word and action to and with the poor and the wicked that God loves them. The rise of \u201cconflict of commitment\u201d policies at R1 universities severely delimits the amount of time faculty have for activity outside of university jurisdiction, making all the more necessary discernment about the possibility of discipleship within the ambit of the universities. This article surveys the policies of Duke, Emory and Notre Dame to show the limitations placed on faculty time outside of university activity. It then addresses the possible objections that writing for other scholars and teaching in such settings are in themselves adequate for discipleship. Finally, the author narrates his own efforts to navigate his home institution. The article suggests that ethnographic fieldwork, especially that done locally, can possibly provide room for discipleship among the marginalized within the constraints of the R1 university. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

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In the 1990s, the concern (re)surfaced as to\nwhether it is possible for a Christian to be an academic. George Marsden led\nthe way by arguing that modern universities had moved from \u201cProtestant\nestablishment to established nonbelief,\u201d thereby becoming spaces that were a\nthreat to the free exercise of religion.[1]<\/a> Others concurred with the\nsecularization thesis as it applies to colleges and universities.[2]<\/a> More recently, in the last\ndecade or so, analyses have posited that the problem is more that of\nfragmentation than secularization stifling the Christian voice in academia,[3]<\/a> with one volume arguing\nthat universities are now in a \u201cpostsecular\u201d age.[4]<\/a> Still, even with these\nlater volumes, the concern regards primarily professors\u2019 ability to speak <\/em>and write<\/em> religiously, with chapter titles like, \u201cWhy Faculty Find it\nDifficult to Talk About Religion.\u201d[5]<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

As important as it is for religiously-oriented\nfaculty to talk freely about their beliefs and, particularly, to integrate\nthose beliefs into their lectures and writing, there is another threat to the\npossibility of being a Christian in the academy, and it comes into focus when\nwe shift our concern from orthodoxy or right belief to orthopraxy or right\npractice. That the orthopraxy of Christian academics has slipped from view is,\nI suggest, in large part due to the nature of our profession: we are trained\nand paid to talk and write, and so that is the first direction of our gaze. However,\nif, following the gospels\u2019 concern with wealth and poverty, we pay attention to\nthe social and economic matrices of our craft, we find that there are structural\nobstacles to our living Christian lives in this regard, too.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My focus will be on R1 universities for two\nreasons. First, there is a premium on publication production in this setting,\nand the nature of the activity of writing is that it physically moves us to\nsolitude and away from our neighbors, rich or poor, whom we are to love.[6]<\/a> Second, the students whom\nwe are to teach in R1 universities in the United States tend to come from\nfamilies that are already well-off. In the case of my own university, Notre\nDame, the median income of the families of undergraduates is $192,000 a year. At\nEmory University, it is $139,800; Duke, $186,700.[7]<\/a> A professor can spend her\nentire career at an R1 university and, other than the cafeteria servers and the\nbuildings and grounds crews, rarely encounter a poor person. If book-production\nand teaching relatively well-off students are the primary activities of the\nprofessor, what scope is there for an academic to practice discipleship in a\nfaith whose center and inspiration says, \u201cTruly I tell you, just as you did it\nto the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me\u201d (Mt\n25:40)?[8]<\/a> I have previously made a case for fieldwork in Christian ethics\non theological and epistemological grounds,[9]<\/a>\nbut it is clear now that another argument, this time within the ambit of Christian\npractical reasoning, is also necessary: Can a professor maintain fidelity to\nthe Gospel while working for an R1 university? [10]<\/a> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

To set the context of this discussion, in the first part of this article I do a brief scriptural analysis to limn the vision of Christian discipleship in the gospels. Here, discipleship is the practice of following Jesus Christ in proclaiming in word and action to and with the poor and the wicked that God loves them. Then, I analyze the rules\u2014now overtly manifested in \u201cconflict of commitment\u201d policies\u2014that govern the lives of faculty at Emory, Duke, and Notre Dame. The formalizing of such policies is in keeping with the general trend of the corporate bureaucratization of American universities, and threatens to turn such universities into what sociologists call \u201cgreedy institutions.\u201d[11]<\/a> In Notre Dame\u2019s case especially, we will see that that policy makes official the view that the university has claim on excessive amounts of the professor\u2019s time and energy, such that little is left for being present to \u201cthe least of these.\u201d In the section after that, I attend to two possible objections: Does not academic book-writing ultimately benefit the poor? And what about the role of teaching? Here I ague that in R1 universities, the primary audience of the books written is other similarly placed scholars and teaching (again, to undergraduates whose families have a median income of $192,000 a year) has a subservient role in professional advancement. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

So, can professional advancement in a university\nthat prioritizes book-production and claims jurisdiction over virtually all of\nthe professor\u2019s time be squared with a faith that prioritizes face-to-face\nencounter with the poor and the wicked? My wager is that such an alignment is\npossible if the discipleship amidst the poor and the wicked becomes the subject\nof the professor\u2019s research. This is where ethnographic fieldwork plays a\ncritical role. Fieldwork brings the researcher face-to-face with her research\nsubjects. Discipleship brings her face-to-face with them in the context of a\nparticular kind of encounter, that of letting the poor and wicked know in word\nand action that, although they may be rejected by the bulk of humanity, they\nare loved by God. Writing up these encounters in articles and books\u2014preferably\nwith prestigious university presses\u2014is the only way to make such discipleship count\nin the professional context of an R1 university. Ethnography is a way for a\nChristian to practice her faith and remain a scholar. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

In the last section of this article, then, I\ndescribe how I came about to combine my work as a recovery coach for persons\nwith opioid and methamphetamine addictions in northern Indiana with my given\nrole as a professor at Notre Dame. Getting to this point took a lot of trial\nand error regarding how to serve both the university and the marginalized. Here,\nI discovered that what is critical is to discern the shape of one\u2019s\ndiscipleship first<\/em>, and then build one\u2019s\nresearch project around that. My research question for purposes of our\nInstitutional Review Board is, \u201cDoes recovery coaching reduce rates of relapse\namong people with opioid and methamphetamine addictions,\u201d but the discipleship\nis much more than that, and the stakes\u2014if scripture is to be believed\u2014are high.\nJesus in Matthew 25 goes on to say to those who do not practice face-to-face\ndiscipleship with the poor and the wicked, \u201cDepart from me into the eternal\nfire . . . Truly I tell you, just as\nyou did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me.\u201d (Mt 25:41\nand 45). I suggest that ethnography done locally is somewhat better-placed to\nsucceed in an R1 university than that done afar because the former does not\nhave some of the encumbrances of the latter and the R1 university requires\nprompt production. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Throughout, I focus on three cases, Duke\nUniversity, Emory University, and the University of Notre Dame (In part because Notre Dame is my home\ninstitution, I am able to elaborate somewhat more on its practices). I do so because all are\nR1 universities, yet each has a different relationship with the religious\ntradition that founded it. While Trinity College, which was to\nbecome Duke University, was founded by Methodists and Quakers, there is no\nmention of this is the university\u2019s mission statement.[12]<\/a> Emory\u2019s mission statement\non its part refers to the religious founding obliquely, as translated into a\ngeneralized \u201cstrong moral force\u201d: \u201cThe\nuniversity, founded by the Methodist Episcopal Church, cherishes its historical\naffiliation with the United Methodist Church. While Emory’s programs are today\nentirely nonsectarian (except for those at the Candler School of Theology), the\nuniversity has derived from this heritage the conviction that education can be\na strong moral force in both society and the lives of its individual members.\u201d[13]<\/a> Notre\nDame\u2019s reference to its Catholic inspiration and identity is direct: \u201cThe University of Notre Dame is a Catholic academic\ncommunity of higher learning.\u201d[14]<\/a> What we\nwill find\u2014perhaps counterintuitively, perhaps not\u2014is that the more direct the\nconnection claimed between the school and its religious beginnings, the more\ndetailed and overtly demanding the claims on the professor\u2019s time on the part\nof the school, with the threat of \u201csevere sanctions\u201d for noncompliance. First,\nhowever, we need to get clear on the demands of discipleship. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Following Jesus: Discipleship in the Gospels <\/h3>\n\n\n\n

Jesus frequently calls upon those who would\nbecome his disciples to \u201cfollow\u201d him (usually akoloutheo<\/em>, but also deute<\/em>;\nsee Mt 16:24; Lk 9:23; Mt 4:19), and to follow him means first and foremost to undertake\nthe life project of learning to imitate him so as to be able to act in his name.[15]<\/a> Discipleship, so\nunderstood, is reenactment of the Gospel. The call from Jesus to be like him is\nclear: \u201cA disciple is not above the teacher . . . it is enough for the disciple to be like the teacher<\/em>\u201d (Mt 10:24\u201325,\nemphasis added). Biblical scholar James Dunn states that this passage is\nevidence of \u201ca clear strand of imitatio\nChristi <\/em>in the New Testament itself.\u201d[16]<\/a> And being like Jesus\ninvolves carrying out his mission. In this regard, Dunn states forcefully, \u201cIt was only as they shared in his mission\nthat his disciples shared in his authority<\/em> and charismatic power<\/em>. In short, as Jesus did not live for himself\nbut for the kingdom and others, so it had to be with his disciples\u2026Those who\ngathered around him did so to share in that task, to follow him in his mission,\nand for no other reason\u201d (emphasis in original).[17]<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

The\nquestion arises as to whom the mission is directed. Liberation theology has\nlong foregrounded a \u201cpreferential option for the poor,\u201d in the gospels, and\nsuch preference is evident in passages from the Magnificat (Lk 1:51-53: \u201cHe has shown strength\nwith his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their\nhearts. He has\nbrought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good\nthings, and sent\nthe rich away empty.\u201d) to the Sermon on the Plain (Lk 6:20: \u201cBlessed are you\nwho are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God.\u201d). Some other scholars counter\nthat if there is a preferential option at all, it is for the wicked, and a\nrange of passages backs their argument as well. All three\nsynoptic gospels witness to Jesus\u2019 proclamation, \u201cI have come to call not the\nrighteous but sinners\u201d (Mk 2:17; Mt 9:13b; Lk 5:32).[18]<\/a> The Sermon on the\nMount\/Plain in Matthew and Luke admonishes us to love our enemies (Mt 5:43\u201348; Lk\n6:27\u201336), and to forgive the debts or sins of others (Mt 6:12; Lk 11:4). Luke\nfollows the call to love our enemies immediately with the specific command not\nto judge or condemn, but to forgive (Lk 6:37). And Jesus\u2019s words on forgiveness\nextend to the parables. Both Matthew (18:12\u201314) and Luke (15:1\u20136) tell the\nparable of the lost sheep, and Luke, once again, spells out its implications:\n\u201cThere will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over\nninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance\u201d (15:7). Luke takes the\nmessage of forgiveness all the way to the cross: \u201cFather, forgive them; for\nthey know not what they are doing\u201d (23:34). Scholarly debate tends to set up\nthe missions to the poor and the wicked as a zero-sum game\u2014Jesus had to be for\nonly one or the other[19]<\/a>\u2014but the biblical evidence\ndoes not support such views. Jesus had particular missions to both populations.[20]<\/a> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

And just what is that mission? Jesus tells his\ndisciples in the same commissioning passage quoted from earlier, \u201cAs you go, proclaim the good news, \u2018The\nkingdom of heaven has come near\u2019\u201d (Mt 10:7). To say, \u201cThe kingdom has drawn\nnear,\u201d is to tell the listeners in other words, \u201cGod has not forgotten you; God\nloves you.\u201d The evidence of that love is practical: Jesus heals them. It is no\nsurprise, then, that when he sends out the disciples, he tells them that when proclaiming\nthe kingdom, \u201cCure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, cast\nout demons\u201d (Mt 10:8a). Modern biblical scholarship is often at a loss with\nregard to how to interpret the healing accounts, and often descends into\ndebates about whether the miracles \u201creally\u201d happened. For our purposes, the key\npoint is that God\u2019s love manifests itself in practical ways, most often in\nresponse to specific requests from the people encountered. Peter\u2019s\nmother-in-law (Mk 1:29\u201331), a leper (Mk 1:40\u201345), the servant of a centurion (Mt\n8:5\u201313), a paralytic (Mk 2:1\u201312), a hemorrhaging woman (Mt 9:20\u201322), blind men\n(Mt 9:27\u201331; Mk 8:22\u201326), a demoniac (Mt 9:32\u201334), the daughter of a synagogue\nleader (Mk 5:21\u201343) and many others (Mt 8:16\u201317; 12:15\u201321; 15:29\u201331; Mk 3:7\u201312;\n7:31\u201337) all request\u2014or have others request on their behalf\u2014specific practical\nresponses to their ailments.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

If we are to sum up the gospel understanding of\ndiscipleship, then, we can say that it is an ongoing effort to follow and thus\nimitate Christ in his going out to the poor and the wicked to announce God\u2019s\nlove for them in both word and practical action. Unlike Jesus and his immediate\ndisciples, I am unable to perform miraculous works of wonder. I, and most\npeople like me, are left with things like becoming recovery coaches who help people\nwith addictions get health insurance, find housing, and otherwise rebuild their\nlives. These are all activities that, if we take them seriously, require\nsignificant time and energy. It is not a once-a-month or even once-a-week thing.\nThe presenting problem for the academic is that the R1 university also demands\nconsiderable time and energy, and claims that time and energy directed\nelsewhere constitutes a \u201cconflict of commitment.\u201d To understand just how\nserious such universities are about the matter, it is helpful to turn to the specific\ninstances of the conflict of commitment policies at Duke, Emory, and Notre\nDame.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Regulating\nthe Lives of Professors: Conflict of Commitment Policies<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

The tenure-track professional development structure found in R1 universities has its origins in a medieval apprenticeship model: one apprentices oneself for a certain number of years, and then is allowed into the guild. Performance measures are based on production quantity and quality. For the most part, R1 universities continue to take this approach, with the granting of tenure requiring the production of a certain number of books and articles placed, as a sign of quality, with esteemed presses and journals. Two forces have placed pressure on this model. The first is that modern market competition between schools coupled with a tight professorial job market have escalated the productivity demands, both pre- and post-tenure. Second, modernity has, according to Max Weber, brought with it the increased bureaucratic regulation of human life in its totality through formal policies. It is no longer sufficient to measure productivity in terms of numbers of books and articles; it is necessary also to govern the professor\u2019s use of her time, both on and (seemingly) off the job.[21]<\/a> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The result of these changes in the university settings is the rise and formalization of the \u201cconflict of commitment\u201d policy, which requires not just a certain amount of production, but that the professor not spend over a certain amount of time away from<\/em> production for the university. Such regulations are different from conflict of interest<\/em> policies, which pertain to whether the professor can do her job well<\/em> in light of interests\u2014say, significant stock ownership in a company one is researching\u2014that may sit crosswise with scholarly inquiry. Conflict of interest policies are concerned with the integrity and thus quality<\/em> of the work; conflict of commitment policies are concerned with the quantity <\/em>of time put into it. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Duke University\u2019s conflict of commitment policy is straightforward, and involves little elaboration:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A conflict of commitment can be said to exist when a member of the University community has an outside relationship that requires a commitment of time or effort to non-University activities, such that an individual, either implicitly or directly, cannot meet her\/his obligations to the University.[22]<\/a><\/p><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

The lack of detail in the Duke policy leaves much open to interpretation with regard to whether the professor is meeting her \u201cobligations\u201d to the university or not. Presumably, however, as long as such obligations are met, there is no strict time limit on \u201cnon-University\u201d activities. The remainder of the policy discusses consulting and government activities as outside activities, suggesting that the policy concerns activity that is professional and remunerated as opposed to personal and non-remunerated. The total policy statement is only 125 words long.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Emory\u2019s policy begins with the statement that faculty \u201cowe their primary professional<\/em> allegiance to the university\u201d (italics added), suggesting again that the focus is on professional, not personal activity.[23]<\/a> Most of the policy focuses on \u201cteaching, research, or service at or on behalf of another institution,\u201d again indicating that the concern is over professional activity. However, the fact that faculty must provide an \u201coverview of all compensated and non-compensated activities\u201d to their deans suggests a wider scope of activity. Importantly, activities considered \u201coutside\u201d the university must be reported to the relevant dean prior to<\/em> that activity, giving the dean the juridical right to override the professor\u2019s desire to participate in the activity even before it commences.[24]<\/a> The policy statement is 926 words long. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

If Emory\u2019s policy leaves questions of scope\nambiguous, Notre Dame\u2019s does not. At 2,059 words, it is over twice as long as\nEmory\u2019s and sixteen times longer than Duke\u2019s. As such, it is far more specific\nthan the other two, and provides a more detailed look at the implications of\nthis genre of policy. Though the preamble to the policy states that the\nuniversity respects faculty time with family and other \u201coutside\u201d activities,\nand indicates a desire for \u201cdialogue,\u201d the policy itself severely delimits\noutside time and grants administrators plenary power to prohibit any activity\nthat is not activity for the university. Notre Dame\u2019s policy requires that all faculty\nreport to their department chair or dean any activity of one day a month, whether\npaid or unpaid, that is not directly in service to the university. Faculty must\nreport any activity of five days or more to the provost. This includes\nweekends. The document is quite broad with regard to the disallowed activities,\nwhich involve all, \u201cActivities not normally defined as a faculty member\u2019s\nresponsibilities to the University. For example, such activities may include\npaid or unpaid arrangements as an advisor, advocate, arbitrator, consultant,\ncounselor, expert witness, board member, principal or co-principal\ninvestigator, or any other arrangement whereby a faculty member agrees to use\nhis or her professional or other capabilities to further the interests or\nagenda of an outside activity or organization.\u201d[25]<\/a> Paid or unpaid. Professional\nor other capabilities. Any<\/em> other\narrangement. With regard to\nthe \u201cother capabilities\u201d that are to be monitored by the university, one of the\nmembers of the policy-generating body gave me the example of someone involved\nin her parish council.[26]<\/a> In short, the university\nis functionally asserting jurisdiction over the entire scope of the faculty\nmember\u2019s life. The policy gives the administrator the juridical prerogative to\nforbid non-university activity, with threat of \u201csevere sanctions\u201d\u2014including\ndismissal from employment\u2014if the professor continues in the activity.[27]<\/a> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The detailed nature of Notre Dame\u2019s policy allows us to quantify, and so not leave ambiguous, the extent of the university\u2019s presumed scope of jurisdiction. Again, the policy requires reporting of outside activity of one to five days per month to the department chair or dean and of five or more days per month to the provost. Assuming at present an eight-hour workday, this means that the employee must report eight hours of outside activity to the chair or dean. The quantitative implications are easy to determine. There are 720 hours in a 30-day month. If we figure 8 hours per day for sleep and four hours for other activities such as personal hygiene and the preparation and eating of meals, this leaves 360 hours per thirty days. Given that the faculty member must report any activity of 8 hours or more, the university therefore lays claim to 352 hours per month of the employee\u2019s time, or 11 hours and 44 minutes per day with no days not under university jurisdiction. Even if we take as the sample case that which lies at the boundary between accountability to the dean and accountability to the provost\u20145 days or 40 hours per month\u2014this still calculates out to the university claiming 320 hours per month, that is, 10 hours and 40 minutes per day of the employee\u2019s time with no days not under university jurisdiction. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Such demands contrast sharply with the widely accepted view that that an employer may justly claim only 48 hours of regular time and request, but not demand, 12 hours of overtime per week, for a total of 60 hours of employer-claimed time per week. In the widely accepted view, the amount of time that an employer can claim from a worker per month is 208 hours (four weeks plus two days). This is the measure that the University itself signed onto when it became a member of the Workers\u2019 Rights Consortium, an organization that monitors conditions in which licensees produce university goods.[28]<\/a> Any claim to more than 48 hours of an employee\u2019s time formally constitutes\u2014according to the university\u2019s own standards when applied elsewhere\u2014a \u201csweatshop\u201d condition. We can debate whether we want to call the present situation for professors at Notre Dame a sweatshop condition\u2014there is a literature on \u201cwhite collar sweatshops,\u201d[29]<\/a> yet there are vast differences between the situation at hand and the conditions of factory workers in developing countries\u2014but it remains that the 208-hour threshold for justifiable claims on time by an employer is far below the numbers (320 to 360 hours) claimed, under threat of \u201csevere sanction,\u201d by the university. The conflict of commitment policy indicates that the university lays claim to between 74 hours, 40 minutes and 82 hours, 8 minutes per week of a faculty member\u2019s time. Such a claim is itself in conflict with Catholic social teaching\u2019s longstanding position against excessive demands on employees\u2019 time on the part of employers.[30]<\/a> One of the ironies of the policy is that it states that one of the activities that can trigger a \u201csevere sanction\u201d is the \u201ccontinual significant disregard for the Catholic character of the University,\u201d a disregard that the policy itself, despite the intentions of its authors, appears to embody.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Even more deeply, the problem with the university\u2019s policy is not simply that of the number of hours it requires from its faculty. If we move to a qualitative and not merely quantitative standpoint, we see that the \u201cconflict of commitment\u201d policy begins at the opposite end of the question than is the norm in calculating work hours: most determinations of the work week begin with the idea that the worker\u2019s time is hers<\/em> to sell; but the policy begins with the idea that all<\/em> of the faculty member\u2019s time is under the university\u2019s<\/em> purview and that it is the university\u2019s<\/em> prerogative to determine how much the professor can keep for herself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It might be objected that while the policy claims a certain amount of the professor\u2019s time<\/em> for the university, it does not formally require the faculty to be working<\/em> all of this time; it just rules out working\u2014or any other activity\u2014for an entity other than the university. However, the ratcheting up of production demands on the part of universities that serves as the precursor to such policies indicates that the policies do not constitute a call for increased faculty leisure time. On the contrary, a more probable interpretation comes to light when we consider these policies against the background of the disciplining\u2014in the Foucaultian sense of governing persons\u2019 bodies\u2014of the lives of junior professors.[31]<\/a> Up to tenure, academic life \u2014acceptance into a prestigious program, passage of exams, completion of the dissertation, the offer of a tenure-track position, promotion, and ultimately tenure itself\u2014takes place within an all-or-nothing structure: fail at any one of these points and one is often, perhaps usually, shut out of academia altogether, or at best is cast into the academic version of limbo, adjunct status. This structure reduces all of the junior scholar\u2019s activity, professional and personal, to a zero-sum game: any<\/em> activity that is not activity towards<\/em> tenure is activity against<\/em> tenure; it is time that could and (according to the institutionally structured ethos) should be spent on behalf of the university. There is no need for a conflict of commitment policy for junior professors; it is already built into the tenure system itself. The dynamic changes after tenure, and many associate professors use their newfound status in part to seek better life balance.[32]<\/a> Against this backdrop, the conflict of commitment policy functions to re-institute the pre-tenure discipline for post-tenure faculty: the policies (Notre Dame\u2019s in particular) re-describe virtually all activity that is not for<\/em> the university as sufficiently against<\/em> the university to merit the threat of \u201csevere sanctions.\u201d More broadly, the policy, with its threat of the severe sanction of removal from employment, functions to override the medieval apprenticeship model of tenure and replace it with a modern industrial time-card structure that maximizes production time on behalf of the employer, with the significant twist noted before that the conflict of commitment policy begins with the assumption that the employer, not the employee entering into the contract, has jurisdiction over virtually all of the employee\u2019s time. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

 The question, then, is that of how the call to\nfollow Jesus Christ to meet the poor and the wicked face-to-face and proclaim\nGod\u2019s love for them in word and action\u2014a calling that demands significant time\nand energy\u2014fits with employment at a university that claims all of the\nprofessor\u2019s time as its own and only then gives back a few hours here and there\nfor \u201cpersonal\u201d use. One reply might be that there is already room for such\ndiscipleship in the academic context as presently structured. It can be argued\nthat the writing and teaching required for advancement provide sufficient\nspace. I take up these arguments in the next section.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Replies to Objections<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

One anticipated objection is that academic writing, especially that on important social issues, is adequate in and of itself and, through some unarticulated social process, the poor will benefit. What this objection misses is that academic writing, even more so now than, say, fifty years ago, is set within institutional structures that obstruct any outside impact. That this is the case came forward in a debate that ensued when New York Times<\/em> columnist Nicholas Kristof wrote that academics write in a \u201cculture of exclusivity\u201d that \u201cglorifies arcane unintelligibility while disdaining impact and audience.\u201d[33]<\/a> A wide range of academics replied swiftly and forcefully. They argued that they were indeed involved in wider public debates, much of it taking place in the blogosphere and social media, about such issues as the gap between rich and poor. What those critics of Kristof glossed over, however, is the question of whether such writing is counted as professional production by their home institutions. At Notre Dame, keeping a public blog, no matter how academic its reasoning may be, is not an academic activity and therefore must be reported to one\u2019s chair, dean, or even provost as per the conflict of commitment policy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The most thoughtful response to Kristof came from Joshua Rothman of The New Yorker<\/em>, who was once an academic. Rothman writes that the academic system discourages writing for anyone beyond a small circle of other academics, and his response\u2014in keeping with the trend of narrowing what counts as academic writing\u2014makes the distinction between a professor\u2019s academic writing and other writing that she may do on her own time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The system that produces and consumes academic knowledge is changing, and, in the process, making academic work more marginal . . . All the forces are pushing things the other way, toward insularity. As in journalism, good jobs are scarce\u2014but, unlike in journalism, professors are their own audience. This means that, since the liberal-arts job market peaked, in the mid-seventies, the audience for academic work has been shrinking. Increasingly, to build a successful academic career you must serially impress very small groups of people (departmental colleagues, journal and book editors, tenure committees). Often, an academic writer is trying to fill a niche. Now, the niches are getting smaller. Academics may write for large audiences on their blogs or as journalists. But when it comes to their academic writing, and to the research that underpins it\u2014to the main activities, in other words, of academic life\u2014they have no choice but to aim for very small targets. Writing a first book, you may have in mind particular professors on a tenure committee; miss that mark and you may not have a job. Academics know which audiences\u2014and, sometimes, which audience members\u2014matter.[34]<\/a><\/p><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Especially now, if\nnot before, the argument that theory-weighted scholarly books and\narticles will eventually have an impact, however indirect, on the lives of the\npoor and the wicked amount to an invisible hand trickle-down theory of academic\ncapital, with about the same impact as its namesake theory in the field of\neconomic capital.        <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Another objection that\nmight be raised is that teaching can be and often is a form of discipleship. Stated\nthis generally, there is no difficulty with this claim. There are<\/em> colleges and universities that\nemphasize and\u2014this is important\u2014reward good teaching. More, there are colleges\nand universities that take it as a central part of their mission to admit and\nteach students from the lower end of the economic spectrum. Neither is the case,\nhowever, with most R1 universities. They may a<\/em>ward, but they do not re<\/em>ward\nexceptional (as distinct from passable) teaching.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It is also not the\ncase that teaching people from the lower economic strata is functionally a\nsignificant part of the mission of the R1 schools we have been addressing. As\nindicated above, the median income of the families of the undergraduate\nstudents at Notre Dame, Emory, and Duke is $192,000\/$139,800\/$186,700 a year,\naccording to a 2017 study on the role of colleges and universities in\nintergenerational economic mobility.[35]<\/a> Notre Dame and Duke are\ntwo of 38 colleges and universities\u201413th<\/sup> and 26th<\/sup> overall\u2014that\nhave a greater proportion of admitted students in the economic top 1% (15.4% in\nNotre Dame\u2019s case and 19.2% with Duke) than in the bottom 60% (10% Notre Dame and\n16.5% Duke). Only Emory reverses this pattern, with 14.9% from the top 1% and\n27.7% from the bottom 60%. In terms of admitting and enrolling students in the\nbottom economic quintile, Notre Dame, Emory, and Duke rank 2,383rd<\/sup>, 1,805th<\/sup>,\nand 2,140th<\/sup> of 2,395 schools measured. Therefore also, when the\nfocus is on the number and percentage of students who move from the economic\nbottom 40% to the top 40% as a result of going to a school, the three schools\ncome in 2,190th<\/sup>, 1,785th<\/sup>, and 2,080th<\/sup>.[36]<\/a> If discipleship involves\ngoing out to the poor in word and practical action, then the admissions\npolicies of Notre Dame and Duke\u2014and to a somewhat lesser extent, Emory\u2014make it\ndifficult for faculty to carry out their calling. Teaching students from\nwell-off backgrounds can be a part<\/em> of\ndiscipleship\u2014Jesus\u2019 own words are sharp, \u201cWoe to you who are rich, for you\nhave received your consolation. Woe to you who are full now, for you will be hungry\u201d (Lk 6:24\u201325)\u2014but\nthe One we are to follow makes clear that the primary focus of His ministry is\nto the poor and those socially marginalized under the rubric of the wicked. For\ndiscipleship, then, the primary focus of time and energy must be with these\npersons. I have tried to move my own activities in this direction, and I\nnarrate these efforts in the following last section. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Narrow is the\nWay: A Pilgrim\u2019s Progress? <\/h3>\n\n\n\n

My\nown efforts at discipleship in the R1 context are riddled with trial and error,\nbut perhaps because of that they can serve as a kind of fractured object\nlesson. After fifteen years of teaching and writing on war, peace, and human\nrights, in 2005 I decided that I could no longer ply the trade with any\nintegrity unless I placed myself in a warzone where there are significant human\nrights violations. I went and lived in Internally Displaced Persons camps in\nnorthern Uganda during and immediately after the Lord\u2019s Resistance Army\nconflict. I did this in part for epistemological reasons: most Christian\nethicists in the United States adhere to some form of the sociology of\nknowledge, the idea that where we are socially located shapes what we know, and\nyet virtually no such ethicists writing on war ever go live in conflict zones. We\nneeded, it seemed to me, to follow through methodologically what our epistemologies\ntold us about the world and our knowledge of it. My reasoning was also\ntheological: Jesus Christ went out to meet the poor and marginalized where they\nare, and if we are to take on the designation \u201cChristian,\u201d then so should we. I\nwrote about this effort in terms of \u201ccrossing the road,\u201d like the Good\nSamaritan.[37]<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Unlike\nthe Good Samaritan, however, I was not doing anything practical on behalf of\nthe people I met. This was a mistake. To be sure, the people in the camps often\ntold me that my presence there as a Western white person gave them hope that\nthey had not been entirely forgotten by the \u201cworld\u201d in what was, \u201cthe world\u2019s\nmost forgotten humanitarian crisis.\u201d[38]<\/a>\nStill, others made clear to me that this was not enough. One man put it to me\nbluntly about my research, \u201cWhat are you going to do for us? You come and steal\nour knowledge. You steal our culture. You come and talk to us about our\nknowledge and our culture and then take it all back with you. And we have\nnothing left. Look at us. You see how we live. What are you going to do for\nus?\u201d He was telling me that unless it is converted into something that they\nthemselves can use, academic research on the poor is simply another instance of\ncolonial extraction, no less so than mining for minerals for its being the\nculture that one collects and takes away. Without shaping our research in a way\nthat directly serves the subjects of that research, scholarship conducted in\nsuch settings is mere plunder, another \u201cscramble for Africa.\u201d He was right.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I asked him and others in return, \u201cWhat do you\nneed?\u201d A frequent answer: \u201cWe need oxen.\u201d The war had reduced livestock\nownership to 2% of what it was before.[39]<\/a> In 2008, I audited a\ncourse in non-profit management, trained as an ox drover, and co-founded\nPeaceHarvest, a (very) small non-profit organization that combined livestock\nprovision with training in agriculture and peacebuilding. We did ten one- and\ntwo-week trainings. I formed the organization in light of Catholic social\nteaching\u2014my main teaching and frequent writing subject\u2014with its emphasis on\npositive peace as \u201cright relationship with neighbor,\u201d and Pope Paul VI\u2019s\nobservation and dictum, \u201cDevelopment is the new name for peace.\u201d[40]<\/a> I also consciously\ndesigned PeaceHarvest to apply and follow Catholic social teaching\u2019s principle\nof subsidiarity\u2014we used local practices as well as best practices drawn from\nother regions of the world; after the first two trainings, we used only local\ntrainers. In other words, I took intellectual skills and insights that I\nlearned through graduate school and eighteen years of university teaching, and\ncombined them with listening-oriented fieldwork to convert my academic capital\nand co-create something that contributed to the wellbeing not just of humanity\nabstractly considered, but of specific people. The results were concrete and\nmeasurable: each two-week training brought five teams of oxen. Each team served\nfive families. Each family, on average, has six people. So each two-week\ntraining helped 150 people feed themselves (5x5x6=150). With five two-week\ntrainings (the one-week trainings were follow-ups), we helped 750 people to\nfeed themselves. Catholic Relief Services invited our Ugandan manager to\npresent on how PeaceHarvest combines agricultural development with\npeacebuilding at a special in-service on the topic. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I knew that such activity does not receive any\nacknowledgment as academic productivity at Notre Dame, despite the university\u2019s\ncommercials about its service to the poor. Such commercials and the activities\ndisplayed in them promote the university, but not, given the narrow account of\nwhat constitutes scholarly activity, the professor within the university. The\nacademic field does not recognize such activity as a form of currency. In the\nmeantime, founding and directing PeaceHarvest slowed the completion of my book project\nby three to four years, which has delayed my becoming a full professor, with\nthe bump of salary that that involves, by the same amount of time. I have made\nthe calculation, and the total loss over the remainder of my career of being\nthree to four years behind in salary each year runs into the six figures (and\nthis leaves out the money I invested directly into PeaceHarvest). Using\nacademic capital for other than academic purposes narrowly conceived has\nliteral cost. I knew this going into the project.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But I made another mistake. I knew that\nPeaceHarvest would not count for <\/em>my\nprofessional advancement, but I did not know that it would count against<\/em> it. However, after I told administrators\nabout the non-profit as part of a general reporting on my work in Uganda (this\nwas before the formal conflict of commitment policy was articulated, so I did\nnot know better in telling them), my salary was frozen\u2014no cost of living\nincrease\u2014for seven years until my book was out. This was far from a \u201csevere\nsanction\u201d like tenure or job revocation, but the message was clear: in founding\nPeaceHarvest, I had, according to the university, misappropriated what it felt\nwas its time. I had to discontinue PeaceHarvest. Not long after, the university\nissued its conflict of commitment policy, formalizing an institutional ethos\nthat was, as I found out, already in place in practice. The sanctioning in my\ncase indicates that such policies are not mere window-dressing, but are meant\nto be applied. They are specifications of a particular practiced ethos. My\nmistake was that I was carrying out what I thought of as my discipleship alongside <\/em>my research, something not\npermitted in a setting where virtually all activity outside of the university\nis forbidden. The way is indeed narrow (Mt 7:14). What I needed to do was to discern\nthe shape of my discipleship first, and then build my research around that, and\nthat is what I have done with my current research project among persons with\nopioid and methamphetamine addictions in northern Indiana.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

What I have found in this present work is that\nthere are distinct advantages to focusing locally as it pertains to Christian\ndiscipleship in an R1 university. Research among the marginalized in far-off locales\nhas multiple complications that make it difficult to complete books on the\ntimeline drawn up by the university, a timeline that is based more on the kind\nof research that requires little more than a library.[41]<\/a> There is first of all the\nmatter of simply getting to the field site. It took two days of red-eye flights\nand two days more of overland travel\u2014mostly on pothole-riven and bumpy, unpaved\nroads\u2014to get to my primary site of Lokung Internally Displaced Persons camp. In\none roundtrip, then, eight days is taken in travel. The physical demands of the\ntravel point to a second factor of such research generally\u2014it is hard on the\nbody. Even once on site, \u201crustic\u201d accommodations\u2014no running water, pit toilets\nthat require deep squatting, small animals in one\u2019s room\u2014and motorcycle\nintra-site travel on corrugated dirt roads all add to the toll. Care of the\nbody takes time. Care of the soul does too. Seeing and being with persons who\nhave been mutilated by machetes and who then unfold their stories for you requires\ndowntime, and sometimes more than a shot of whiskey. Secondary trauma is real. I\nreturned from one trip with PTSD. Research in such locations also requires\nlearning the local dialects of languages that cannot be found in any Rosetta\nStone or university course. When I began fieldwork in northern Uganda and South\nSudan, the only English-Acholi grammars and dictionaries were written by early\ntwentieth century Comboni missionaries, and even these could not replace the\nrequired on-the-ground, sentence-by-broken-sentence learning of the local\nlanguage. Much of my \u201cresearch\u201d time was spent with language tutors.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Another\nfactor typically not taken into account by universities is that sabbaticals for\nan ethnographer working on the edges of war-torn developing countries are for\nresearch more than writing. We need big blocks of time\u2014remember, it takes eight\ndays just to get there and back\u2014and going only in the summer misses all of the\nrest of the seasonal cycle in what are largely agrarian or itinerant pastoral\neconomies. Finding the time to be in the field in a way that is adequate to the\nlives of the people living there is difficult. Sabbaticals provide that time. Ethnographers\u2014or\nat least this ethnographer\u2014write when they get back. The problem is that the\nuniversity expects a written product upon return. The first thing this\nethnographer does upon return is get to know his family again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then\nthe writing begins, and it involves converting a loose array\u2014sometimes coherent,\nsometimes not\u2014of observations, \u201cthick descriptions,\u201d[42]<\/a>\nand semi-structured interviews into a narrative with a more or less clear\ntrajectory. Unlike in quantitative social science, the evidence does not come\nback in the (somewhat) neat categories that the researcher sets out in advance.\nAnd unlike in library-based research, there is no clear point at which one has\n\u201cread\u201d all of the relevant sources and can proceed on to writing. Much of the\nsurprise is in the writing itself. I have written in both library-based and\nfield-based forms. With the former, virtually all of the thinking takes place\nbefore the writing; I know what I am going to say. Not so with the latter, and\nthe result is many more drafts than would otherwise be the case. In the\nmeantime, the expectation of production continues as before.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Going\nlocal helps ameliorate some, but not all, of these factors. I chose working\nwith persons with opioid and methamphetamine addictions because they are\u2014at\nleast in the gaze that is from Notre Dame\u2014the marginalized of the marginalized\nin northern Indiana. I am what is called a Certified Addiction Peer Recovery\nCoach. The field of addiction recovery services began developing the option of\nthe peer recovery coach after it realized that it had driven out peer-based\nrecovery\u2014that is, recovery built upon relationships with people who themselves\nare in recovery. Though it was not a conscious reason at first, I am sure that\nit was in play when I began this research that I battled active addiction myself\n38\u201340 years ago. I am sure that had my recoverees been my age back then, we\nwould have gotten high together.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\nbegan by working in the Indiana state prison system, meeting with who I call\n\u201cmy guys,\u201d because I cannot bring myself to call them \u201cmy patients\u201d or \u201cmy\nclients,\u201d while they were incarcerated and then continuing to work with them\nonce they were released. I went through both Notre Dame\u2019s and the Indiana\nDepartment of Correction\u2019s IRBs so that I could do the research and thus the\nwork. Word that I was doing the work quickly spread in the region, and I have\nboth initiated and been called upon to develop recovery coaching in our\nhospital emergency rooms, which encounter people who are overdosing on a daily\nbasis. I have written a successful six-figure grant proposal for training\nrecovery coaches for the hospital emergency room. The hospital grant already\npermits me access to the data for research; now I just have to write it up for\nNotre Dame\u2019s IRB to make it official academic research so that I do not get sanctioned\nfor conflict of commitment like I did when I founded PeaceHarvest.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The\nwork is still emotionally difficult. One woman started heroin when she was 13;\nshe is hepatitis C positive because her parents shared their needles with her. One\nman\u2019s father had him sniffing fentanyl\u2014which is as much as 50 times more\npowerful than heroin\u2014when he was 12 years old. He is now thirty, and last week\nwhen we were driving along in my car, he pointed out the window at a man\nfilling up his car at a gas station: \u201cThat\u2019s my dad\u2019s heroin dealer.\u201d The vast\nmajority of the recoverees with whom I am working had childhood traumas\nresulting from things ranging from physical and sexual abuse to a parent being\nmurdered. Those who had whatever might be called \u201cnormal\u201d childhoods contribute\ntrauma of their own. I meet with mental health professionals to track my own psychological\nwellbeing. There is always grief work to do. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Still,\nwhen the day is done, I see my family and sleep in my own bed. The farthest I\nhave to travel to see one of my recoverees\u2014I do home visits in part because\nmany of them do not have their driver\u2019s license or a car and in part because it\nallows our meetings to take place on their \u201cturf\u201d\u2014is somewhat over an hour. The\nnearest recoveree is minutes down the street. With no four-day, thousands-of-miles\nbuffer, the main difficulty now is in maintaining physical and psychological\nboundaries. None know where I live because the first persons someone with an\naddiction often steals from is persons he knows and even loves. I have changed\nmy Facebook name so that the recoverees I work with cannot readily track my\npersonal life. Still, if I need a break from my work, I do not have to wait\nweeks for the opportunity.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Reduced\ntravel, less toll on the body, perhaps less psychological stress, no foreign\nlanguage to learn, less need to spend large amounts of time to acquire travel\nfunds, sabbaticals than can be used for writing as well as fieldwork: perhaps\nfollowing Christ in going out to the poor and wicked locally can combine with a\nrate and mode of publication that meets the requirements of an R1 university. There\nis still the difficulty of converting the messiness of life, particularly life\non the margins, into a book with a narrative trajectory. And there are still\ncertain requirements of self-care that are not in play with library-based\nresearch. But the practical reasoning I have performed in this article suggests\nthat going local can increase the chances, whatever they might be, of a\nChristian also succeeding as an academic. It is a survival tactic made all but\nnecessary for discipleship in the R1 university. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Feature Image by <\/em>Victoria Heath<\/em><\/a> on <\/em>Unsplash<\/em><\/a>.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n\n\n\n

Notes<\/h4>\n\n\n\n

[1]<\/a> George Marsden, The Soul of the American University: From Protestant Establishment to\nEstablished Non-Belief<\/em> (New York: Oxford University Press, 1994).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

[2]<\/a> See, for instance, James Burtchaell, The Dying of the Light: The Disengagement of\nColleges and Universities from their Christian Churches <\/em>(Grand Rapids,\nMichigan: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1998).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

[3]<\/a> Perry L. Glanzer, Nathan E. Alleman, and\nTodd C. Ream, Restoring the Soul of the\nUniversity: Unifying Christian Higher Education in a Fragmented Age<\/em>\n(Grover, Illinois: InterVarsity Press, 2017).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

[4]<\/a> Douglas Jacobsen and Rhonda Jacobsen, The American University in a Postsecular Age<\/em>\n(New York: Oxford University Press, 2008).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

[5]<\/a> Mark U. Edwards Jr., \u201cWhy Faculty Find\nit Difficult to Talk About Religion,\u201d in Ibid., pp. 81-98.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

[6]<\/a> R1 universities are, according to the\nCarnegie Classification of Institutions of Higher Education, doctorate-granting\nuniversities with the \u201chighest research activity.\u201d See \u201cThe Carnegie\nClassification of Institutions of Higher Education,\u201d at\nhttp:\/\/carnegieclassifications.iu.edu\/classification_descriptions\/basic.php.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

[7]<\/a> For easily accessible data, see, \u201cThe\nUpshot: Some Colleges Have More Students From the Top 1 Percent Than the Bottom\n60 Percent. Find Yours,\u201d The New York\nTimes<\/em> (January 18, 2017), at https:\/\/www.nytimes.com\/interactive\/2017\/01\/18\/upshot\/some-colleges-have-more-students-from-the-top-1-percent-than-the-bottom-60.html?action=click&contentCollection=Opinion&module=Trending&version=Full&region=Marginalia&pgtype=article<\/a>; and \u201cThe Upshot: Economic diversity and\nstudent outcomes at Notre Dame,\u201d The New\nYork Times<\/em>, 2017, https:\/\/www.nytimes.com\/interactive\/projects\/college-mobility\/notre-dame<\/a>. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

[8]<\/a> All biblical quotes are from the New\nRevised Standard Version.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

[9]<\/a> Todd Whitmore,\n\u201cCrossing the Road: The Case for Ethnographic Fieldwork in Christian Ethics,\u201d Journal of the Society of Christian Ethics<\/em>\n27, no. 2 (2007): 273\u2013294.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

[10]<\/a> R1 universities are, according to the\nCarnegie Classification of Institutions of Higher Education, doctorate-granting\nuniversities with the \u201chighest research activity.\u201d See \u201cThe Carnegie\nClassification of Institutions of Higher Education,\u201d http:\/\/carnegieclassifications.iu.edu\/classification_descriptions\/basic.php.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

[11]<\/a> For the corporatizing trend, see, for\ninstance, Gaye Tuchman, Wannabe U: Inside\nthe Corporate University<\/em> (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2009); On\n\u201cgreedy institutions,\u201d see Lewis A. Coser, Greedy\nInstitutions: Patterns of Undivided Commitment<\/em> (New York: Free Press,\n1974); and Marianne Egger De Campo, \u201cContemporary Greedy Institutions: An Essay\non Lewis Coser\u2019s Concept in the Age of the \u2018Hive Mind,\u2019\u201d Sociologick\u00fd\n\u010casopis \/ Czech Sociological Review<\/em>,\n49\/6 (2013): 969-987.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

[12]<\/a> \u201cMission Statement,\u201d Duke University, https:\/\/www.trustees.duke.edu\/governing-documents\/mission-statement<\/a>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

[13]<\/a> See, \u201cMission Statement,\u201d Emory University, http:\/\/emoryhistory.emory.edu\/issues\/character\/mission.html<\/a>. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

[14]<\/a> See \u201cUniversity\nof Notre Dame Mission Statement,\u201d University of Notre Dame, https:\/\/dulac.nd.edu\/university-mission-and-vision\/mission\/<\/a>. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

[15]<\/a> For a classic statement of the\ndiscipleship versus imitation thesis, see Hans von Campenhausen, Die Idee des Martyriums in der alten Kirche<\/em>,\n2nd<\/sup> ed. (G\u00f6ttinggen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1964), 56\u201378. For a\ncritique of the Campenhausen interpretation, see Candida Moss, The Other Christs: Imitating Jesus in\nAncient Christian Ideologies of Martyrdom<\/em> (Oxford: Oxford University Press,\n2010), 20\u201323. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

[16]<\/a> James D.G. Dunn, Jesus and the Spirit: A Study of the Religious and Charismatic\nExperience of Jesus and the First Christians as Reflected in the New Testament<\/em>\n(Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1997), 13.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

[17]<\/a> Dunn, Jesus and the Spirit<\/em>, 81\u201382.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

[18]<\/a> I use the term \u201cthe wicked\u201d rather than\n\u201csinners\u201d (both are used in the gospels) because of the tendency, following\nPaul, to water down what constitutes a sinner by proclaiming that we are all\nsinners. When Jesus refers to his coming not for the righteous, but sinners, he\nis highlighting that he is going out to a specific subset of people who have\nbeen singularly condemned and marginalized by the community, not the whole\ncommunity.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

[19]<\/a> See, for instance, John P. Meier, \u201cThe\nBible as a Source for Theology,\u201d in The Catholic Theological Society of\nAmerica, Proceedings of the Forty-Third\nAnnual Convention<\/em> 43 (Louisville\/Chicago: The Catholic Theological Society\nof America, 1988), 1\u201314.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

[20]<\/a> For the argument that\nJesus had missions to both the poor and the wicked, see Todd Whitmore, Imitating Christ in Magwi: An\nAnthropological Theology<\/em> (London\/New York: Bloomsbury\/T&T Clark, 2019),\n213\u2013220.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

[21]<\/a> Max Weber, Economy and Society<\/em>, eds. Guenther Roth and Claus Wittich\n(Berkeley\/Los Angeles\/London: University of California Press, 1978).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

[22]<\/a> \u201cChapter 5: Research-Organizational\nStructure for Sponsored Projects and Research Related Policies,\u201d Faculty\nHandbook 2019, <\/em>https:\/\/provost.duke.edu\/sites\/all\/files\/FHB_Chap_5.pdf<\/a>. The entirety of the rest of the policy\nsimply provides some qualifications: \u201cIn addition, the distribution of a\nfaculty member\u2019s effort among, for example, research, teaching, committee\nresponsibilities, and outside consulting or other activities may raise issues\nof conflict of commitment. Any faculty member planning to do research for the\ngovernment under a stipulation that a specified fraction of her\/his effort will\nbe devoted to the research should check with the Office of Research Support or\nthe Office of Research Administration regarding procedures to ensure\ndemonstrable compliance with the indicated requirements.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

[23]<\/a> \u201cChapter 13: Conflict of Interest and\nCommitment,\u201d Emory University, https:\/\/provost.emory.edu\/faculty\/handbook\/conflict-of-interest.html<\/a>. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

[24]<\/a> Ibid.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

[25]<\/a> \u201cConflict of Commitment Policy,\u201d\nUniversity of Notre Dame, December 2012, https:\/\/policy.nd.edu\/assets\/185214\/conflict_commitmentpolicy.pdf<\/a>. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

[26]<\/a> More, the policy defines academic\nactivity narrowly: while \u201cwriting\nbooks and articles\u201d constitutes activity that does not have to be reported,\n\u201cholding office in a scholarly or professional organization\u201d and \u201cediting a\nlearned journal\u201d do constitute activity that must be reported. Professors,\naccording to the policy, are above all and almost exclusively to be\nbook-generators. See, Ibid.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

[27]<\/a> Ibid. This part of the policy reads, \u201cWhenever an activity is deemed to compromise a faculty\nmember\u2019s ability to carry out his or her University obligations, the faculty\nmember\u2019s chair or dean has the authority to intervene. . . . If a\nfaculty member disagrees with his or her Department Chair\u2019s or Dean\u2019s\ndetermination regarding a compromising activity, the faculty member may appeal\nthe decision in writing to a three-person peer review ad hoc<\/em> \u2018Conflict of Commitment Committee.\u2019 This committee\u2019s\ndetermination shall be final. The timing and management of the appeal process\nwill be as articulated in the \u2018severe sanctions\u2019 appeal process.\u201d For severe\nsanctions including dismissal from employment, see Section 3, Article 8 of the\nNotre Dame Faculty Handbook<\/em>, at https:\/\/facultyhandbook.nd.edu\/assets\/276034\/academic_articles_effective_october_1_2017.pdf<\/a>. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

[28]<\/a> The university also signed onto the code\nof the Fair Labor Association, which allows overtime to be demanded, thus\nallowing a required 60-hour workweek. Even here, the numbers come to 260 hours\na month (four 60-hour weeks plus two ten-hour days), still far below the 320\u2013360\nhours that the university policy demands.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

[29]<\/a> Jill Ayanski Fraser, White Collar Sweatshop: The Deterioration of\nWork and its Rewards in Corporate America<\/em> (New York: W.W. Norton and Company,\n2002).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

[30]<\/a> The church\u2019s teaching recognizes that humans are multi-dimensional beings who realize their dignity in a variety of social spheres\u2014familial, religious, political, and cultural, as well as economic. When activity in the remunerative economic sphere overextends into the other spheres in its time requirements or ethos, this violates the dignity of the human person. Thus Rerum Novarum<\/em>, as one instance, warns that the employer \u201cis bound to see that [the employee] has time for the duties of piety . . . and that he not be led away to neglect his home and family\u201d (15). In addition, the employer must not interfere with each person\u2019s obligation, in John XXIII\u2019s words, to \u201ccontribute generously to the establishment of a civic order in which rights and duties are more sincerely and effectively acknowledged and fulfilled\u201d (Pacem in Terris<\/em>, 31). Yet another basis for limits on the time and energy that employees put into remunerative work is related more directly to the capacity of the worker: \u201cThe employer must never tax his work-people beyond their strength\u201d (Rerum Novarum<\/em>, 15). <\/p>\n\n\n\n

[31]<\/a> Michel Foucault, Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison<\/em>, 2nd<\/sup> ed.,\ntrans. Alan Sheridan (New York: Vintage Books, 1995).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

[32]<\/a> See Robin Wilson, \u201cWhy Are Associate\nProfessors So Unhappy?\u201d The Chronical of\nHigher Education<\/em>, June 3, 2012, https:\/\/www.chronicle.com\/article\/Why-Are-Associate-Professors\/132071<\/a>. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

[33]<\/a> Nicholas Kristof, \u201cProfessors, We Need\nYou!\u201d The New York Times<\/em>, February\n15, 2014, https:\/\/www.nytimes.com\/2014\/02\/16\/opinion\/sunday\/kristof-professors-we-need-you.html?_r=0<\/a>. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

[34]<\/a> Joshua Rothman, \u201cWhy is Academic Writing\nSo Academic?\u201d The New Yorker<\/em>, February\n20, 2014, https:\/\/www.newyorker.com\/books\/page-turner\/why-is-academic-writing-so-academic<\/a>. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

[35]<\/a> Raj Chetty, John N. Friedman, Emmanuel Saez, Nicholas Turner, Danial Yagan, \u201cMobility Report Cards: The Role of Colleges in Intergenerational Mobility,\u201d http:\/\/www.equality-of-opportunity.org\/assets\/documents\/coll_mrc_paper.pdf <\/a>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

[36]<\/a> For easily accessible data, see, \u201cThe\nUpshot: Some Colleges Have More Students From the Top 1 Percent Than the Bottom\n60 Percent. Find Yours,\u201d The New York\nTimes<\/em>, January 18, 2017, at https:\/\/www.nytimes.com\/interactive\/2017\/01\/18\/upshot\/some-colleges-have-more-students-from-the-top-1-percent-than-the-bottom-60.html?action=click&contentCollection=Opinion&module=Trending&version=Full&region=Marginalia&pgtype=article<\/a>; and \u201cThe Upshot: Economic diversity and\nstudent outcomes at Notre Dame,\u201d The New\nYork Times<\/em>, 2017, https:\/\/www.nytimes.com\/interactive\/projects\/college-mobility\/notre-dame<\/a>. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

[37]<\/a> Todd Whitmore,\n\u201cCrossing the Road,\u201d 273\u2013294.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

[38]<\/a> There are several close versions of this\nquote from Jan Egeland, then UN Under Secretary General for Humanitarian\nAffairs, indicating that he said it several times in slightly different forms. See,\nfor instance, Reliefweb, \u201cWar in northern Uganda world\u2019s worst forgotten\ncrisis: UN,\u201d November 11, 2003, http:\/\/reliefweb.int\/report\/uganda\/war-northern-uganda-worlds-worst-forgotten-crisis-un<\/a>; and \u201cNorthern Uganda \u201cWorld\u2019s Biggest\nNeglected Crisis,\u201d The Guardian<\/em>, October\n22, 2004, http:\/\/www.theguardian.com\/world\/2004\/oct\/22\/2<\/a>. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

[39]<\/a> See Kirsten Gelsdorf, Daniel Maxwell and\nDyan Mazurana, Livelihoods, Basic Services\nand Social Protection in Northern Uganda and Karamoja<\/em> , Feinstein\nInternational Center, Working Paper 4 (August 2012).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

[40]<\/a> National Conference of Catholic Bishops,\nThe Challenge of Peace: God\u2019s Promise and\nOur Response<\/em> (Washington: United States Catholic Conference, 1983), pars.\n27 and 32\u201333; Paul VI, Populorum\nProgressio<\/em>, 76 and 87.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

[41]<\/a> Quantitative research in sociology or\npolitical science typically involves a flock of research assistants to\nundertake the surveys and sometimes do some of the writing; ethnography is most\noften a solo venture.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

[42]<\/a> On \u201cthick description,\u201d see Clifford\nGeertz, The Interpretation of Cultures<\/em>\n(New York: Basic Books, 1973), 3\u201332.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Download PDF: Whitmore, Narrow is the Way Abstract  Previous efforts to discern whether Christian scholars have a place in the university have focused on orthodoxy\u2014whether professors can speak and write according to their faith. This article focuses rather on orthopraxy\u2014whether<\/p>\n

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