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Christian Imagination and Covenant: Pedagogy as Play
Dr. Heather (Nation) Hess ‘09, Assistant Professor of English
For some time now I’ve been convinced that Christian imagination is essential to education at Covenant. By definition, Christian imagination is the faculty for envisaging and perceiving what was, is, could be, should be, or will be in light of God’s creative and redemptive work, and it can, among other things, assist us in being more fully human in our educative vocation. It’s easy enough to say that our work in the classroom should be Christ-centered, but implementation can be elusive or half-hearted. Occasionally, we need to rekindle our imaginations for what the pedagogical preeminence of Christ actually looks like, and I would like to propose a metaphor that might re-enchant our perception of the academic endeavor. Because, on their best days, when my faculty colleagues reflect both Christ’s humble submission to the Father and His measureless love for creation, I like to imagine those colleagues as redeemed children, engaged in holy play.
Childish play may sound like a waggish sentimentalization of the serious work we do as scholars and educators, but adopting this metaphor reframes our thoughts and attitudes. It steers us away from the aggressive or reductionistic metaphors frequently applied to higher education (such as combat training or transaction). It also carries the theological resonance of Christ’s call for childlike faith in Matthew 18. Furthermore, the association has arisen from my own scholarly pursuits. A recent project led me into the discipline of ludology, which is the study of the structure and function of play. Ludologist Johan Huizinga notices in his work Homo Ludens that the heart of play defies utility. “The fun of playing,” he suggests, “resists all analysis, all logical interpretation,” and is, in fact, “superfluous.” This play element shows up in a number of cultural situations, including that of religious ritual and worship, which Huizinga describes as “a sacred play-season.” While the characterization could be construed as cynical or patronizing, I believe it has merit.
Play has a profound dignity and importance when we reform our thinking away from a pragmatic, utilitarian mindset. Creation is not merely functional, but delightful. Our world exists not because God needs it, but because it brings him pleasure. In a Christian imaginary, we perceive the very cosmos to be a work of divine play and our stewardly vocations necessarily take on a similar flavor. Poet Gerard Manley Hopkins captures this in his poem “As Kingfishers Catch Fire,” explaining that “Christ plays in ten thousand places, / Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his / To the Father through the features of men’s faces.” In such a paradigm, play is a sacred thing.
An excerpt from G.K. Chesterton’s Orthodoxy may further enrich this metaphor: “Because children have abounding vitality, because they are in spirit fierce and free, therefore they want things repeated and unchanged. They always say, ‘Do it again’; and the grown-up person does it again until he is nearly dead. For grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony. But perhaps God is strong enough to exult in monotony. It is possible that God says every morning, ‘Do it again’ to the sun; and every evening, ‘Do it again’ to the moon... It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we.” (81)
I am loath to accuse my colleagues of monotony, but the things we find dazzlingly interesting are not always seen in that light by students. Perhaps our relish in revisiting the same content again and again for each new class indicates a family resemblance to our childlike heavenly Father. Sometimes our students have grown old, and it becomes our job to help them grow a bit younger.
Each of our disciplines contains some element of beauty-making that inspires a childlike sense of wonder and welcome. In a culture that idolizes efficiency and agency, embodying Christ in our classrooms should consistently look like an invitation to join in on the sheer fun of our subjects, not only because they are useful—but because they are good gifts, bestowed on us by a doting heavenly Father.