Provost's Perspective

Extending Rush’s Vision

by Neil Weissman, Provost and Dean

December 30, 2008

We have become accustomed at Dickinson to asking the question, “What would Ben Rush have thought?” Or, put slightly differently, how would our founder assess the various dimensions of our current program? We are not, of course, bound by Rush’s ideas; they are two centuries old. Nonetheless, his plans for Dickinson provide a useful measuring stick for taking stock of continuity and change.

This issue of Dickinson Magazine offers an interesting subject for such measurement. What might Rush say about our academic program as it relates to issues of spirituality and religion? My interest here, I should note, is the curriculum, rather than the rich extracurricular, community and personal religious activities reflected elsewhere in this magazine.

Rush’s view on religion in the curriculum seems, on surface, straightforward. Arguing that “fear of the LORD is the beginning of all wisdom, and should be the end & Object of all education,” Rush began his “Plan of Education for Dickinson College” with a call for instruction in Christianity. His original draft plan included daily prayers, weekly sermons by the president and required essays on theological questions by all seniors, these last to be publicly presented. And, of course, “Divinity” as a branch of learning in the curriculum.

Measured against this standard, today’s academic program stands as a salient example of change from Rush’s originating vision. Religion certainly remains a field of concentration, students may meet their humanities requirement by taking a course in this department, and religion offerings are among the best enrolled at the college. But there is no religion requirement at Dickinson, and the department is modestly sized. Daily prayers, weekly presidential sermons and senior essays in theology have long since ceased to be part of the formal curriculum (in fact, Rush’s plan for essays was never enacted).

As in most matters, however, Rush’s thinking on religion in the curriculum was more complex than it appeared on the surface. His case for religious study centered not on personal devotion but on its role as “the only foundation for a useful education in a republic.” Without religion, he argued, “there can be no virtue, and without virtue there can be no liberty. …” This instrumental view of religion is clear in his case for Christianity. “A Christian,” he claimed (despite much history to the contrary), “cannot fail of being a republican.” Moreover, Rush was open to the lessons of other faiths, maintaining that “the opinions of Confucius [or] Mahomed” were preferable to no religion at all.

Translated into 21st-century terms, I would argue, Rush’s case for religion in the curriculum can be seen as a call for values, for the “useful education” of citizens whose sense of civic virtue is grounded in the ethical and spiritual. In this interpretation, our curriculum extends rather than deviates from Rush’s vision.

Take, for example, our current, major initiative in the area of sustainability and the environment. Beyond science and policy, the challenge of sustainability raises the deepest questions about humanity, nature and the spiritual. As Vaclav Havel has argued, “It’s not enough to invent new machines, new regulations, new institutions. We must develop a new understanding of the true purpose of our existence on this Earth.” To address this dimension of sustainability, we offer courses such as Environment, Culture and Values and Jewish Environmental Ethics. And we are working to ensure that other, more policy- or science-oriented offerings are informed by an awareness of broader values.

The same analysis can be applied to other elements of our academic program, such as our commitment to a global perspective. Global education at Dickinson, including language study and study abroad, demands immersion in and understanding of foreign cultures, including their religious values.

Would Benjamin Rush accept this admittedly generous translation of his views? I like to think he would. Dickinson continues to offer a “useful” education, and our definition of the term is still informed, as Rush insisted, by spiritual and ethical concerns. These provide, as Rush understood, a rich source of fundamental questions appropriate to education for democracy. This is true in the classroom and—as this magazine issue illustrates—beyond it as well.